


Scar Tissue

by Cheshyr



Category: Guns N' Roses
Genre: AU, Hurt/Comfort, Non-explicit abuse, Past Abuse, good friend Axl, it's just discussed/implied but still, none of this is accurate to the band's irl history lol, protective Axl
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2020-04-16
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:22:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 35,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21892093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cheshyr/pseuds/Cheshyr
Summary: Slash falls hard and fast for Guns N' Roses' new bassist. But Duff has some baggage in the way that they'll have to get past first...
Relationships: Axl Rose/Izzy Stradlin, Duff McKagan/Slash
Comments: 33
Kudos: 91





	1. Chapter 1

Slash knew he was fucked the moment Duff walked in for his audition.

It started when Steven set the audition up earlier in the week. The band had been looking for a bassist for awhile, various people filtering in and out of the spot but never fitting quite right. Meanwhile, unbeknownst to the rest of the band, their drummer had been eyeing a particular bassist. Steven had seen the guy filling in for various bands on the strip, but he always ran off as soon as the show was over. One night, he finally managed to catch the bassist before he could disappear, quickly explaining the situation and convincing him to stop by and jam with Guns N Roses.

Axl had been twitchy ever since the drummer told them about the meeting, “We don’t even know this fucker. You should have talked to us first,” he ground out, arms crossed and pacing tensely. 

Luckily, Izzy kept him from completely losing his shit. He wrapped his arms around the singer’s waist to still him, “Hey, worst-case scenario we don’t invite him back. We’re not committed to anything. And we _do_ need a bassist. Steven saw an opportunity and took it.”

Slash and Steven looked at each other and exchanged fake gagging noises. Since they were both currently single, they often bonded over teasing Axl and Izzy about their relationship, the couple usually just rolling their eyes or flipping them off. Before Axl could start huffing at them, there was a knock at the door. They were meeting in a small studio they had snagged so they could practice somewhere other than the Hell House where the four musicians were currently living together.

“Sweet, he’s here!” Steven jogged over and opened the door, quickly standing aside to let the bassist walk in.

And yeah. Slash was fucked.

“Guys, this is Duff!”

Slash gave himself points for not being too blatantly obvious about it, but come on, no one should have legs that long and lean. The bassist was over six feet tall, seemingly towering over the rest of the band. He was skinny, too, his ripped up black clothing hanging off his frame, tattered jeans hanging low on his hips even with a studded belt holding them up. Shifting his hold on the bass case he carried, he flicked his long bleached hair out of his face, revealing a darker strand underneath the blonde waves.

“Hey, nice to meet you guys,” he raised a hand in greeting, bracelets and rings and black painted nails giving a quick wave while Slash struggled not to stare at the way dark eyeliner emphasized his bright hazel eyes.

Holy shit, he was fucking smitten. 

Axl eyed Duff suspiciously as he placed his bass as well as a heavy looking backpack down to the side, “You play punk bands?” he asked, looking the bassist up and down, taking in his heavy punk aesthetic.

Duff shrugged, “I play anything, really. I started out doing mostly punk bands, but lately I’ve been hanging with more rock and metal dudes.”

The singer hummed noncommittally, “Well, let’s see what you can do then.” They spent some time talking Duff through a few of their songs before getting themselves set up to play. Slash had his fingers crossed that the music would help get his mind out of the gutter. But of course, he had no such luck.

Duff was _good_. It was more than just his playing, although the ease with which he picked up the songs was more than a little impressive, and he had no problem working with Steven to keep the beats. Duff’s presence just _fit_ with the rest of them in a way no other bass player had managed. He matched their energy, and could move and dance to the songs without missing a beat, unlike Slash who managed to fumble _twice_ after seeing Duff roll his hips against his bass. He had to duck his head to avoid Izzy’s knowing look.

By the time they made it through the selected songs, it was obvious Duff was different from the other bass players they’d worked with. Even Axl had loosened up enough to grin and compliment him on his playing.

“It shouldn’t take long to get you caught up on what we’ve got so far,” Izzy commented, lighting up a cigarette, “But I think it’s a good match. If you’re cool with it we can make it official,” he shrugged.

Grinning, Duff nodded, “Hell yeah, I’m down. Hopping between bands was getting kind of old.”

“Aw, I can’t believe we've convinced you to settle down! We’ve made an honest bassist out of you!” Steven laughed, throwing his arm around Duff’s shoulder, the bassist flinching just slightly, “Everyone here owes me a drink for bringing us all together,” the drummer declared.

The group chatted as they exited the building, Duff laughing and joking with them as if he’d always been there, while Slash very consciously didn’t stare at his ass.

As they loaded up Izzy’s piece-of-shit car, Steven turned to the bassist, "Where do you live, anyway? We can give you a ride if you want."

Slash both loved and hated the idea of having to press close to the other man in the cramped vehicle, but Duff shook his head, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and lighting one casually, "Nah, it’s fine. I'm couch surfing right now, and I’m not entirely sure what couch I’m on tonight,” he exhaled a stream of smoke with a wry grin.

There was a pause, as the rest of the band turned to look at him. Steven and Slash looked concerned, Izzy kept his face blank and neutral, and Axl had a look on his face that those close to him recognized to mean that his thoughts were being torn in two different directions.

Noticing the silence, Duff rolled his eyes, readjusting his backpack and bass on his shoulders as he took a few steps back, “Oh relax, it’s no big deal. Life’s just a bitch sometimes,” he chuckled, “I’ll see you guys tomorrow, yeah?” Without waiting for a response, he turned on his heel and began making long strides down the street.

Spinning to look at the others, Steven held his hands out in dismay, “Guys!” he hissed as he gestured wildly to the retreating figure.

Axl narrowed his eyes, his body tensing, but before he could turn the conversation into a fight, Izzy sighed, placing a gentle hand on the red-head’s arm. “Just… give us a second,” he nodded at Slash and Steven before guiding Axl a few feet away so they could talk in private.

“I mean, to be fair, our place is already pretty packed,” Slash pointed out.

“Oh please, we’re so used to living in squalor we probably wouldn’t even notice another person added to the mix,” Steven glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, grinning slowly, “Well. _You_ would notice him,” he said teasingly.

Slash gaped, “Excuse me? What’s that supposed to mean?” he hoped if he sounded offended enough he could end this before it started.

But of course. No luck. Figured.

Steven laughed, “Oh please, you were practically drooling over him! I’ve only heard you make mistakes like you did today when you were piss drunk.”

“Maybe I’m drunk now,” Slash argued.

“Yes, you’re obviously wasted,” the drummer rolled his eyes, “Actually, maybe this was a bad idea. Will you be able to keep your hands to yourself if he’s around? We can’t have you scaring off our bassist the second we get him just cause you can’t keep it in your pants.”

“Oh shut up,” Slash mumbled, blushing. There was no point trying to deny it at this point, “I can be a perfect gentleman, thank you very much.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

At that moment, Izzy and Axl walked back over. “Alright, let’s go,” Izzy stated casually as he slid into the driver’s seat.

“What about Duff?” Steven questioned, a look of betrayal on his face.

But Izzy only raised an eyebrow at him, “He’s coming too. We just have to catch him first.”

Snapping their heads up, Slash and Steven realized that Duff was, in fact, gone. They hadn’t even noticed him disappear. Scrambling, the two quickly hopped into the backseat of the car, slamming the doors just as Izzy managed to get the pile of junk to finally start. Axl sat in the front seat with his arms crossed, and while he didn’t look happy, he didn’t look angry either, so still a win.

It only took three blocks before Izzy suddenly took a sharp, last second left turn, the occupants of the car tumbling to the side dramatically. They barely had time to right themselves before Izzy was slamming on the breaks, screeching to a halt and throwing his passengers forward in their seats.

Meanwhile, Duff nearly jumped out of his skin when a familiar car skidded to a stop beside him. He skittered back a few steps, eyes wide as he clutched his chest as if he could physically still his rapidly beating heart.

Rolling down the window, Izzy leaned out, “Hey. Hop in, you can crash with us.”

For a moment, the bassist just stared, blinking slowly, “...What?”

Steven rolled down his own window, leaning practically his entire upper body out, “Yeah! It’s not the most glamorous place, but we can squeeze in one more.”

“N-no, guys, seriously, I appreciate it, but it’s fine, really,” Duff another step back, trying to wave them off.

Slash shoved Steven over, leaning out the window beside him, “Dude, it’s totally cool. Besides, this way we have the whole band in one place.”

Duff shifted nervously, glancing away from them and looking thoroughly unconvinced. Finally, Axl sighed. Opening his door, he stood to look at Duff over the top of the car, “Look, you said you needed a couch to crash on, and we’re offering you ours. You don’t have to stay forever if you don’t want. I mean, we _are_ pretty big assholes,” the singer smirked.

Despite his hesitation, Duff couldn’t help but laugh, “Fine, fine,” he finally gave in. “ _One_ night,” he insisted.

“Uh huh, sure,” Steven grinned as he and Slash shifted to make room for Duff and his things. The bassist’s knees were practically touching his chest as he folded himself into the backseat, his side pressed up against Slash, so close he could smell the smoke on his breath and see the little red marks where his lips were bitten raw. He shook his head quickly, letting his hair fall in front of his face to hide the blush he was sure was growing. Steven snickered knowingly, and Slash elbowed him roughly in the side as the car started moving again. 

Their house wasn’t in the best part of town, to put it lightly, but that was part of the reason it was so cheap. It was small and dilapidated, the insulation was terrible, the paint was peeling, and the whole thing was falling apart inside and out. But it was home for the four boys, and if they had their way, hopefully it could be a home for Duff as well. 

Walking in, they stepped over empty bottles and strewn clothing. Izzy grunted as he gestured vaguely at the house, and Steven laughed as he turned to Duff, “I think Izzy hit his quota of words for the day, but I’m pretty sure he’s saying make yourself at home,” he grinned as Izzy flipped him off.

Snaking an arm around the guitarist’s waist, Axl spoke next, “We’ve got three bedrooms. Izzy and I share a room, so Steven and Slash can flip a coin or something to figure out where you’ll be bunking,” he gestured at the two musicians as he and Izzy made their way to their own room.

Duff’s eyes widened a bit, turning to face his two potential roommates and throwing his hands up nervously, “No, no, it’s just for a night, remember? You guys don’t have to- I mean, I can just crash on the couch or something. Or, or I could…” His eyes darted around the room, as if searching for some corner where he could curl up out of the way.

It was weirdly endearing, and Slash smiled as he cut him off, “Hey, it’s no problem dude. And actually, my room is bigger than Steven’s anyway, so you can just share with me.”

“Are you sure? I-”

“Dude, seriously, it’s fine,” Slash insisted. Steven raised an eyebrow at him, but Slash cut him off before he could say anything potentially incriminating, “Really.”

The bassist didn’t look fully convinced, but he didn’t argue anymore. Slash pointed him in the direction of his room so he could finally put his stuff down, and as he walked away, Steven pulled him aside to whisper at him, “Look, I know I was joking earlier, but seriously, please don’t scare Duff off. He’s a cool dude and a good bass player.”

Slash actually felt offended this time, shoving at Steven’s chest, “I am _not_ going to scare him off!”

“I’m just saying!” the drummer raised his hands defensively, “I love you dude, but you’re one of the horniest guys on the planet.”

“Jesus fuck, I’m capable of being chill about it, asshole,” he growled, “I don’t climb on every person I think is fucking hot or whatever you think I’m gonna do.”

“Okay, okay, you’re right, I’m sorry,” Steven had the good grace to look sincere in his apology, “I shouldn’t have worried.” Slash huffed, and Steven grinned teasingly, “Besides, we all know you’re too shy to actually make a move.”

“Hey!” Slash shoved him again, but he couldn’t help but chuckle, “How many times are you gonna insult me today?”

“Probably a couple more times,” Steven laughed.

At that moment, Duff walked out holding two bottles of vodka, one full and one half empty, “I figure since you’re letting me crash here the least I could do is share.”

“Hell yes!” Steven smiled widely, “Oh, you’re gonna fit right in.”

Duff laughed, and when he held out one of the bottles his shirt slipped down one shoulder, emphasizing his smooth, pale collar bones. Slash swallowed thickly. He meant what he told Steven; he could handle this.

He just might have to take a few more cold showers than usual.


	2. Chapter 2

To the surprise of absolutely no one, they convinced Duff to stay.

There was definitely an adjustment period, especially for him and Slash as new roommates. When the five boys finished their vodka and finally made their way to bed that first night, Duff built a nest in the corner of his and Slash’s room out of a pile of clothes, blankets, and a couple of couch pillows.

“We can share my mattress,” Slash offered, determined not to let his lust turn him into an asshole. He wasn’t going to let Duff sleep on the floor just because he had the misfortune of being insanely hot, “I don’t mind.”

But the bassist had shook his head, avoiding his gaze, “No thanks. I…” he trailed off, adjusting the mass of fabric on the floor absently. Smiling weakly, he looked over but still wouldn’t meet Slash’s eyes as he whispered softly, “No thanks.”

There was something so jarringly fragile in his voice in that moment that Slash couldn’t bring himself to press the issue. He simply offered him another blanket to add to the pile.

Luckily, Duff was only stuck on the floor for two nights, before he bribed Steven into helping him drag a cheap mattress into the house. Slash couldn’t help but laugh when, once dropping it in the corner, Duff proceeded to simply move his nest from the floor to the mattress, the pile looking exactly the same save for being a few inches off the ground. Even just a few days into his arrival, it was obvious that he was a welcome addition to the band and the boys.

“Hey!” Duff huffed as Slash snatched his coffee out of his hand one morning, weeks later, “There’s an entire pot right here!”

Slash laughed. One of the first things they learned living with Duff was that he was an early riser, always up hours before the rest of them. The guitarist planned to respond with something witty, but as he took a sip from the stolen mug, he found himself sputtering in surprise, “Jesus Christ, I taste more vodka than coffee!”

“Pussy,” the bassist snorted, snagging the mug back and downing half of it in one go, “Make your own coffee if you’re not even going to appreciate mine.”

Rolling his eyes, Slash moved towards the cabinets, “I’m more of a whiskey person anyway.”

“And I promise I’m not judging you for that.”

Pouring himself his own coffee, Slash only got a single sip before Axl entered the kitchen and snatched it away from him. “Hey!” he huffed, while Duff laughed at the irony.

“Karma, bitch,” he grinned.

Axl chuckled, hopping to sit on the counter as he drank his coffee quietly, rubbing at the dark circles under his eyes. The singer had warmed up to Duff quickly, much to his band mates’ relief. All of them found themselves growing more and more excited for their future as a band. With each rehearsal their confidence grew. They started staying later and later as the week went on because they would get so into their own music they just didn’t want to stop. They had something good here, they knew it. 

There was just one little problem.

Slash had hoped that as time went on, he would get over his dumb infatuation. After all, it wasn’t like he didn’t spend a lot of time around attractive people- surely someone new would catch his eye and he’d move on.

But it only got worse. Because not only did Duff continue to be unfairly attractive, but he also told the worst jokes that still managed to make Slash laugh every time, and he hovered around the four boys like a mother hen, and he always had a bottle of vodka stashed on him somewhere, and when he smiled Slash felt his fucking heart stutter. 

Yeah. It was so much worse than lust.

Slash had a fucking crush on him.

To make matters even worse (because Slash apparently couldn’t catch a fucking break) _everyone_ knew about it. The only one who wasn’t aware of Slash’s growing feelings was Duff, and Slash didn’t know if he was relieved or infuriated. All he could do was pout every time one of his bandmates would snicker knowingly when he looked at Duff a little too long, or tease him when the bassist was in another room.

“I know what I said before, but I changed my mind,” Steven stated one night at a bar, “Just bang him, watching you pine is painful.” Slash punched him in the shoulder.

“I’m two seconds away from locking you both in a closet,” Izzy deadpanned on a different day. Slash simply glared.

“How the fuck do you manage to share a room with him, you look like you’re about to swoon every time he walks into the damn room,” Axl smirked, laughing when Slash ducked his head.

Tapping his fingers against his glass, Slash considered Axl's words. The bar was busy around them, the five friends celebrating another successful show. Izzy, Steven, and Duff were lost somewhere in the crowd while Slash and Axl sat at one of the tables in the corner, winding down after the high energy of their performance.

The truth was, despite sharing a room, Slash and Duff were no closer than the rest of the members of the band. The bassist seemed reluctant to change in front of anyone, often simply passing out at the end of the night in his clothes, and he was always up and about by the time Slash woke up. 

Glancing up at Axl, he debated asking the red-head about something that had been on his mind for almost a week now. Despite Axl's hesitation when they met, he and Duff got along great. But Slash hadn't thought anything of it until earlier in the week when he had woken in the middle of the night. The group had partied pretty hard the night before so it figured he’d have to piss in the middle of the night, as annoying as it might have been. But when he sat up, he noticed Duff was absent, a space for him cleared on his mattress but unoccupied. Frowning, Slash checked the clock next to his bed.

3:17am. It was no secret that Duff was an early riser, but this was a bit much even for him, especially given that they had only gone to bed a few hours earlier. Careful not to make too much noise, he made his way out the door. But just as he stepped into the hallway, he saw two silhouettes in the dim light of the kitchen. Stepping quietly to get a closer look, he was surprised by what he found.

Axl was sitting on the kitchen counter, with Duff leaning heavily against the cabinets just inches beside him. They both had their heads held low, angled towards each other, shadows obscuring their features, and Slash could hear a soft murmur between them, though he couldn’t make out any words.

Slowly, Slash stepped back behind the corner, hiding himself even as he continued to stare for another few minutes. He couldn’t see their expressions or hear their words, but the moment felt… intimate. Just the two of them in the dark, speaking soft and gentle, a bottle of whiskey untouched and ignored beside them. 

He thought about Duff always waking before the rest of them, and he thought of the dark rings often under Axl’s eyes, and he wondered how often they met like this.

Axl was with Izzy. Slash knew that. But he still felt a tug of jealousy when he thought of him and Duff sharing something special.

“You’re fucking _gone_ for him, aren’tcha?” Axl's voice broke him from his thoughts, the singer grinning teasingly.

Slash wanted to argue, but he knew it was pointless, and he was a little drunk and a little high, so he figured there was no harm in venting. Leaning forward, he put his head in his hands and groaned, “It was bad enough when he was just hot. I could deal with that. But I _like_ him, it’s the worst!”

Axl tsked sympathetically, “You poor, doomed idiot.”

“Shut up,” he mumbled.

“We can set up a game of truth or dare if you want.”

“No.”

“Spin the bottle?”

“ _No!_ ”

“Oh! Seven minutes in heaven! I mean, you’re just acting so much like a teenage girl I figure these are your best options.”

“Shut the fuck up, asshole,” Slash threw a napkin at the singer’s smug face.

The red-head opened his mouth to reply, but before he could, his eyes caught on something over the guitarist’s shoulder. His mouth shut with an audible click of his teeth and his whole demeanor switched like a flip. “Axl?” Slash furrowed his brows in concern, but Axl ignored him. Instead, he stood aggressively, chair scraping harshly against the floor as he suddenly stalked away. Slash immediately jumped up and followed after him, “Woah, Axl, what’s wrong?”

Watching the singer move was like watching fire ignite down a trail of gasoline. There was an explosion coming. 

When they reached the back door to the bar, Slash still didn’t know what was going on. He tried calling Axl’s name again, but the singer continued to ignore him, throwing open the door and exiting into the back alley. Stepping after him, Slash froze in the doorway. Time felt like it had slowed to a crawl as he took in the scene in front of him.

There was an older man standing with his back to the door. He had a thick build and thin dark hair pulled into a low ponytail, and with the way he held himself, large and imposing, it took Slash a moment to notice Duff at all. The stranger had Duff pinned against the dirty brick wall, one hand wrapped around a pale, thin wrist in a bruising grip, while the other cruelly grasped a handful of blonde hair. The bassist’s wide, panicked eyes were fixed on the ground, his free hand shoving uselessly to try to push the man away. But the stranger only pressed in closer.

Axl wasn’t a big guy, not by a long shot, but he had two things in his favor: the element of surprise, and a fuck ton of rage. So when he grabbed the man’s shoulder and twisted him around, he released Duff out of surprise, and before he could even begin to react, Axl brought his knee up as hard as he could into the man’s groin. 

From there, Slash felt a bit like he was watching someone get mauled by a feral cat. As soon as the man curled over in pain, Axl was digging his nails into the man’s scalp, latching on viciously as he kicked at anything his boots could reach, screeching profanities and showing no mercy even as the man stumbled back and tried to shake him off.

It’s not until he sees Duff slide down the alley wall that Slash finally manages to move, his shock and confusion swiftly turning to panic and concern.

“Hey, hey, Duff, are you okay? Are you alright?” His hands hover carefully in front of the bassist, almost afraid to touch him. Duff is trembling like a leaf, his breath coming in sharp, shallow gasps, and even though he’s still staring down at the ground, Slash can see a few tears caught on his eyelashes. He’s never seen the bassist so… small.

He doesn’t know what to do, and he turns just in time to see Duff’s attacker actually _throw_ Axl away from him, the singer’s body landing harshly against the pavement. The stranger has blood running down his face, oozing from his hair and nose. He’s hunched over and in obvious pain when he turns and runs out of the alley, calling out “crazy bitch!” behind him as he flees. Relief flooded through Slash, because while he has no doubt Axl would have gone right back to tearing the man apart, he was also clutching his side in pain, his arms scraped up from hitting the gravel.

“I-...” 

Slash’s attention snaps back to Duff, the bassist’s voice shaky and weak, his chest still heaving as if he can’t get enough air. He tentatively looks up when Axl approaches them, struggling to speak through chattering teeth, “I-I’m sorry. Are you o-... are you okay?”

Shaking his head, Axl stands a few feet away from them, letting his bloody arms hang at his sides, “I’m fine, man. Just breathe.”

Duff swallows thickly, curling into himself as he does his best to take a deep breath. It feels like they’re in some private pocket of time and space, separate from the rest of the world. The alley is dark and quiet, but there are little flashes of light on the edges of their vision as cars drive past, and the muffled sounds of music and laughter from inside the bar. They have no idea how much time passes, but eventually, as Duff’s body begins to still and his breaths become even, Slash hesitantly reaches out to hold the bassist’s hand. Duff grips his hand like a lifeline.

Finally, the blonde takes one last steadying breath before looking up at his bandmates, “Thanks. Sorry.”

“You’re fine, dude, don’t worry about it,” Slash insists.

“How… how did you know I was out here?”

At the question, Slash turns to Axl. The singer shrugged, “Got lucky. I happened to look over right when he was dragging you outside. Didn’t exactly look like you were okay with it.”

They both notice the way Duff flinches at his words, his breath hitching just slightly, and his grip on Slash’s hand tightens ever so slightly. Axl’s face darkens and his grinds his teeth for a moment before forcing his voice to be at least somewhat calm, “I’m gonna go find Steven and Izzy and settle our tab. Why don’t you two head home,” he looks at the guitarist as he makes the suggestion, nodding at him before turning on his heel and heading back inside.

It makes sense when he thinks about it that Duff probably wouldn’t want to be crowded by all of them right now. Turning back to the bass player, he asks softly, “You good to stand, or…?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m fine,” he answered softly. Slash helped him to his feet, and after a moment of reluctance, he released the other man’s hand, wrapping his arms around his middle, “Thanks.”

The first few blocks of their journey are silent, Duff keeping his head low and Slash giving him space to pull himself together. Eventually though, the taller boy sighed heavily, “Thank you again. I’m sorry for wrecking the night.”

Guilt is heavy in his voice, as if some random night of drinking was more important than him, and Slash hates it, "Hey, it's fine, I'm just glad you're okay,” he replied sincerely. He feels a swell of anger in his next words, “Fucking rando deserved worse than what he got.”

When he looks over, Duff is biting his lip, hard, "Actually…" he murmured nervously, "It was my fault."

Slash raised an eyebrow, disbelieving, "How do you figure?"

"That wasn't just... some rando…" Duff explained slowly, "That… was my ex."

It probably wasn't the right response, but Slash ground to a halt in the middle of the sidewalk, "Your _ex?_ " And fuck, he didn't mean to sound so accusatory. He was just surprised and, if he was being honest with himself, more than a little worried. Duff's admission had alarm bells ringing in his head. The man had looked older, especially compared to the young band members. Slash would peg him somewhere in his late thirties, and that combined with the way he'd gone after Duff physically did not make for an optimist first impression of the guy. After all, even after some ugly break-ups- even the ex's that Slash fucking hated- he just can't imagine going after them the way that man went after Duff.

The bassist shrugged, shifting anxiously on his feet in front of his band mate, "Yeah, I-" he cleared his throat, still looking anywhere but at Slash, "I was living with him, and, um, things didn't… end very well. So I kind of… stole some money from him when I left. That's why he was, y'know…" he gestured vaguely.

That is absolutely, without a doubt, _not_ the whole story, Slash knows immediately. He doesn’t think Duff is _lying_ , per se, but he can feel the weight of omission heavy in every pause and stutter, and he gets the distinct feeling that if he had all the missing pieces he would get a completely different picture than the one Duff is trying to paint him right now.

“He sounds like a prick,” his voice is firm.

Duff looks up in surprise, “I-... but I-”

“Nope. Don’t care,” Slash interrupts, because his stomach clenches at the thought of Duff trying to shift all the blame onto himself when he was the one who got pinned against an alley wall, “I don’t care if you robbed him blind, he’s an asshole, and he deserved every drop of blood Axl drew.”

Even though his tone left no room for argument, for a moment it still looked like Duff was going to try. His face is a mosaic of guilt, shame, and disbelief, his mouth open as he tried to think of what to say. But finally, he swallows back whatever words were stuck to his throat and offers Slash a weak smile, “At least Axl got some of that famous rage out of his system, right?”

It’s not an agreement, it’s a deflection. But Duff looks so tired, his face still pale and a bruise blossoming on his wrist, that Slash lets it go. For now at least.

“True,” he chuckles, “Might have bought us a few more days of peace before he throws something out a window or something.” They both laughed, some of the tension releasing between them.

They make it another two blocks before Slash is hit by a realization and stops in his tracks a second time, “Wait a second,” his eyes widened as Duff looked at him curiously, and before he could stop himself he blurted out, “so you like dudes?”

Immediately Duff’s face flushed bright pink, “I-I mean…” 

A slow grin spread across Slash’s face, “So I have a shot then.”

His statement had Duff snapping to stare at him, blinking in surprise. He huffed out choked sounding laugh, “Shut up, you ass,” he muttered turning to resume walking.

Slash trotted after him, and he couldn’t stop smiling as he sing-songed, “I have a shot~!”

Duff shoved him playfully. But he was smiling too.


	3. Chapter 3

Things were tense in the Hell House the next few days.

Despite their initial prediction, Axl apparently didn’t “get his rage out” at Duff’s ex. If anything the confrontation had him blazing like an oil fire, snapping at every little thing and slamming doors and storming out of the house more than once to disappear for hours. Even when he sang his whole body was coiled and tense like a wire about to snap.

Duff spent most of the time in his and Slash’s shared room, avoiding the red-head’s temper with loud music and a collection of bottles he’d taken to keeping next to his bed. And, well, Slash didn’t exactly feel like risking whatever was going on with Axl either, so he took the opportunity to spend more quality time with the bassist. 

Because- and Slash still couldn’t believe it- he actually had a shot. When hot guys crossed his path it felt like they were either straight or trying really hard to be straight. Either way, Slash never got far with those dudes. But Duff actually liked guys, had even been in a relationship with one, albeit one that apparently had an ugly ending. And when Slash had drunkenly made his statement about having a chance, Duff had scoffed, but he hadn’t outright rejected him, which Slash was choosing to take as a good sign. 

So they drank, and smoked, and talked music more often than not. He learned a little more about Duff’s punk background, and fuck if Slash didn’t manage to fall for him even harder when he found out Duff was a multi-instrumentalist. 

“I just wanted to play,” he shrugged, nonchalant and completely unaware of Slash mentally carving their names into a tree, “I learned everything I could- bass, guitar, drums- so that I could take any spot that needed filling.”

Other than band and music related stories though, Duff avoided talking about any other aspects of his life, in Seattle or LA, changing the subject anytime Slash encouraged him to elaborate on his time off-stage. But he didn’t push. Instead, Slash would lay on the floor next to Duff’s mattress (because his own bed was simply too far away) and ramble away as they shared smokes and drinks. He talked about his parents, his brother, his childhood with Steven, learning guitar, meeting Axl and Izzy, anything and everything.

Slash doesn’t think he’s ever talked this much at once. Steven had always teased him for being so shy and introverted, yet here he was, chattering away just to help Duff relax and maybe hear the boy laugh once or twice. It’s embarrassing how much he likes him. He’s never been this love drunk before.

Something crashes in another room followed by muffled shouting, and Duff shoots up in a heartbeat, making Slash jump in surprise. The bassist’s eyes are locked on the door, a hand on his chest to still his heart.

“It’s probably just Axl,” Slash says, waving at the door.

“Maybe I should…”

“No way,” he pats Duff’s mattress, motioning for him to sit down again, “He’s fine, this happens sometimes. I don’t know what his deal is, but Axl gets in these moods sometimes and it’s better to just let Izzy calm him down.”

Duff nods slowly as he sits. Something Slash has realized during their hangouts is just how… high strung Duff could be. He reminded him a bit of a jackrabbit- constantly on high alert, head snapping to any noise, body tensed and ready to flee at any moment. It made Slash’s attempts at flirting infinitely more difficult. Most of the time he was used to relying on body language to get his point across to people he was interested in, throwing an arm around their waist, playing with their hair, running a hand up their thigh. But whenever he tried one of those moves with Duff the bassist would flinch or jump. Steven usually ignored those reactions, keeping his arms around the taller man until he relaxed a little, but Slash couldn’t manage it, always pulling away immediately.

The more he witnessed the anxiety running through Duff’s veins, the more he understood his drinking. Vodka seemed to help dilute the nerves, allowing him to loosen up and relax if only a little. And hey, it wasn’t like they weren’t all drinking and smoking and snorting all hours of the day, so he wasn’t about to make any judgements about Duff’s motivations behind it. He just drank with him, kept his hands to himself, and told ridiculous stories until they were both giggling and at ease. And maybe it was wishful thinking, but it felt like Duff was looking at him a little differently now. Like maybe he was a little closer to where he wanted to be. Like maybe they were moving towards something more.

Of course, that optimism faltered when he once again woke in the middle of the night to find Duff’s bed empty. 

He’s less surprised but just as confused when he creeps into the hallway and spies Axl and Duff together in the kitchen again. They’re sitting at the rickety table, Axl holding his head in his hands while Duff stares down at a bottle of beer. Soft murmurs barely reach Slash’s ears. Jealousy flares in his chest. After days of avoiding Axl and spending most of his time with Slash, Duff still shared some soft, intimate thing with the red-head that Slash just didn’t understand. What could they possibly be talking about that had to be hidden away in the dark? What could Duff be sharing with Axl that he couldn’t share with him?

It was frustrating, and Slash had to will himself not to slam the door when he returned to his room. Axl was with Izzy, and he _knew_ Slash liked Duff. He fell onto his bed, glaring at the ceiling. He was head over heels for the bassist but fuck, this felt harder than it should be. 

Sleep did not come easy that night.

~~~~~~~

After that night, Axl finally seemed to calm down. He even apologized for his mood, which had Steven, Izzy, and Slash staring at him like he’d grown a second head, all of them barely managing to stutter out their forgiveness in surprise. As usual though, once the rage burned out, Axl crashed _hard_. Slash and Steven were used to it by now, so when they saw the singer curled lifelessly on the couch with his head on Izzy’s lap, they knew it’d be best to head out to give them some space.

“Come on, I think the Crue is playing at the Whiskey tonight!” Steven threw his arms around Slash and Duff as they left the Hell House. 

While Slash appreciated the alone time with Duff, it was nice to go out with Steven. It felt like it had been awhile since he had hung out with his best friend, and it was easier to relax and just have fun with the drummer there. The three rockers spent a couple hours bar hopping, working up to a decent buzz by the time they reached the Whiskey. 

“Have you met the guys from Motley Crue yet?” Steven asked Duff as they elbowed their way to some seats by the bar.

Shaking his head, Duff settled his arms against the bar, “Nah. I’ve seen them play a few times, but haven’t talked to them or anything.”

“They’re cool guys,” Slash chimed in, leaning against Steven, who was sitting between them, “Fucking insane sometimes, but still cool.”

When the show started, the three boys cheered and hollered excitedly, downing more drinks as the set went on. They joked about keeping an eye on the competition, but in truth it was always fun to see other rockers and cheer them on. Motley Crue had just put out their first album, and record companies were starting to take notice. Guns N’ Roses was a few steps behind them, but despite all the teasing they were more excited than jealous. 

Once they ran off stage, it took about half an hour for the four members of Motley Crue to make their way to the bar and subsequently find Slash and Steven with their new bassist.

“Sup guys!” Tommy greeted cheerfully, Nikki exchanging high fives with Slash.

"Hey, great show!" Steven grinned.

“Thanks,” Nikki responded, “Glad you guys could make it out, I feel like we haven’t hanged in awhile.”

“And who is this tall drink of water?” Vince purred, sliding up to Duff.

It was almost comical the way the six foot three bassist nearly fell off his stool, flinching away from the five foot nine singer like he was about to attack him. Steven giggled, reaching out to catch and steady him before the alcohol brought him to the floor.

“This is Duff, he’s our new bass player!” He explained excitedly as Duff regained his balance.

Nikki’s eyes immediately lit up, shoving Vince to the side to take his place and holding a hand out, “Rad! I’m Nikki, bassist solidarity and all.”

They shook hands briefly before Vince huffed indignantly, “Hey! You’ve already got a man, no cockblocking!”

Worming his way back to Duff’s side, Nikki rolled his eyes. But he quirked an eyebrow as the other bassist chuckled nervously, carefully leaning away again as he downed the rest of his drink. 

Slash narrowed his eyes as he watched Vince cozy up to Duff, “Hey, you guys sang some new stuff tonight. It was awesome, how long have you been working on that stuff?” he interrupted, practically elbowing Steven as he leaned across him to insert himself in the conversation.

Grunting as Slash leaned more of his weight on him, Steven rolled his eyes dramatically, “Jesus dude, just switch seats with me!” Slash barely responded, simply fumbling into his seat while keeping his eye on Vince. Once he was settled, he threw an arm around Duff, and the alcohol and jealousy fueled him enough to keep his arm there even when the bassist tensed.

Beside him, Steven sighed heavily, turning to Mick and Tommy wearily and leaning forward so only they could hear, “Vince never flirts with me like that.”

“Count yourself lucky,” Mick replied, grunting when Tommy elbowed him.

“Be nice!” Tommy hissed.

But Steven simply continued, “It was bad enough when it was just Axl and Izzy. Now I’ve got to deal with this lovesick idiot,” he jerked a thumb at Slash, who was still hanging all over Duff.

Mick snorted, “Can’t be any worse than the three fucking months it took our fucking drummer and bassist to finally hook up.”

“Hey!” Tommy cried indignantly, “We weren’t that bad!”

“I have never drank more in my life than I did while you two had your heads in your asses,” Mick deadpanned, Steven laughing as Tommy rambled to try to defend himself.

Meanwhile, Duff continued downing vodka like water, Vince and Slash on either side of him, constantly interrupting each other in an attempt to win his attention, telling exaggerated stories of their own greatness. For the first few minutes, Nikki could only look on in awe at the trainwreck attempts at wooing he was witnessing. It was almost comical- it reminded him of two children fighting over a doll. 

Slinking over to Tommy, he wrapped an arm around the drummer’s waist, pressing his lips against his cheek before he began whispering into his ear. Steve snickered as he watched Tommy’s expressive face cycle through a host of emotions- confusion, concern, excitement, determination, and finally landing on mischief, which could only mean a good time was coming. 

“Fuck yeah!” Tommy exclaimed once Nikki pulled away, catching the attention of the group, “Let’s head back to our place! There’s probably already a party on our doorstep, and you’d be amazed how much free junk they’ll throw at us just to crawl through our window.”

“Awesome! I’m totally in!” Steven drained the rest of his drink and jumped up, the two drummers leading the way out of the building, the others following close behind. The sky was dark, but the city was as alive as ever, and sure enough there was indeed a crowd hanging around outside the Motley apartment. 

They piled in, quickly filling the space. Within minutes the air was hazy with cigarette and weed smoke, tables quickly being covered with lines of coke and bottles being passed around enthusiastically. Slash loved these kinds of parties- surrounded by people who loved music and loved getting fucked up even more. He and Vince barely took time to breathe between their bickering. If he was a little more sober, he might have realized that Vince was more interested in riling him up than winning Duff over, but as it was he couldn’t help but feel like the stakes were high in their arbitrary competition. 

“I bet you don’t even practice or anything- you don’t need any sort of dedication or shit as a singer,” Slash mocked.

“Excuse you, I am a _frontman_ , and it’s not like _you_ could do it. You couldn’t handle being front and center, you’re constantly hiding behind your hair and your hat and shit.”

“You hide behind three inches of makeup, I barely know what you look like.”

“Jealousy is unbecoming on you.”

“Arrogance is unbecoming on _you_!”

Back and forth they went. 

Eventually though, before things could get too heated, Steven wormed his way over and shoved the two of them apart so he could sit between them on the couch. With a wide smile and devious eyes, he turned to Slash, “Hey guys! Where’s Duff?” he asked innocently.

When Slash and Vince looked at each other, they could practically hear the tires screeching in their minds. Because as they whipped their heads around to search the apartment, they suddenly realized that the object of their competition was nowhere to be found. 

“Ah shit,” Slash cursed under his breath. He couldn’t help but worry- last time he lost track of Duff during an outing was when the bassist got confronted by his ex. What if he was in trouble again? Standing up, taking a moment to steady himself, he stumbled away from the two blondes, “I’ll go look for ‘im.”

“Good idea,” Steven responded cheerily, slinging an arm around Vince, keeping him in his seat, “We’ll stay here in case he comes back.”

Nodding absently, Slash made his way through the crowd. He felt so stupid; he had gotten so caught up in trying to puff his chest and impress Duff that he ended up completely ignoring the other boy. _That_ was attractive.

Wandering through the apartment, he found all sorts of debauchery going on (and also got yelled at by Mick for bursting into his room), but no sign of the bassist. He realized that he must not be inside the apartment. Had Duff been so fed up with Slash and Vince that he just went home? Had he been so fed up with Slash and Vince that he went home _with someone else_? Stepping through the window and onto the fire escape, Slash almost wanted to rip his hair out. But when he leaned over the railing to look down onto the street, he saw him.

Luckily Duff was hard to miss, being so tall and with his bright blonde hair. He was leaning against a wall, smoking and laughing with Nikki and Tommy. The three seemed to tower over the slew of people stumbling around them, but they paid them no mind. Tommy stood behind Nikki, his arms around his waist and his chin on his shoulder as Nikki gestured wildly about something. 

Even as Duff looked away from them shyly, he was still smiling, looking more relaxed than he had most of the evening. And Slash was glad that Duff was getting along with the two Crue members, but at the same time, he felt that same familiar flare of frustration. No matter how hard he tried, it felt like every time he started getting closer to Duff, someone else would slide in and get even _closer_.

After a few minutes, Tommy noticed him standing above them, waving cheerily. Duff gave a small wave as Nikki flipped him off with a wide grin. Slash chuckled and rolled his eyes. He was just about to go down and join them when a loud crash sounded from inside, followed by shouting. Rushing to the window and sticking his head inside he had to do a double take. Because it looked like Vince and Steven were on the floor, wrestling and fumbling to hit each other as they both yelled furiously. But that couldn’t be right.

And yet, that’s exactly what was happening. 

Scrambling inside, Slash stumbled over and wrapped his arms around Steven’s stomach, trying to pull him off Vince who had a vice grip on his hair, “What the fuck, guys! Knock it off!”

“He started it!” Steven screeched. A few partiers had finally stepped in to help pull Vince back, allowing Slash to finally get some space between the two blondes. 

“What the Hell is going on?” Nikki and Tommy stepped through the window. Duff stood at the window, brows furrowed as he watched the scene.

“Your drummer is a fucking prick!” Vince snapped, snarling at Slash who was standing between him and Steven.

“Well your singer is a little bitch!” Steven shot back.

It looked like the two were going to try to start fighting again, so Nikki jumped in front of Vince, “Jesus Christ, cool it! I thought we could get through the evening without spilling any blood, I mean, Axl’s not even here,” he tried to lighten the mood.

But Steven simply glared and shoved Slash’s arms off him, turning and storming over to the window. Duff skittered back to allow him to exit, snapping his head between Steven and Slash as the drummer took off.

Slash rushed after him, calling over his shoulder, “Sorry guys, we’ll, uh, work this out later.” Nikki and Tommy simply shared a look of confusion as the three Guns members disappeared for the night while Vince stomped away to his room.

“Stevie! Steven, hey!” Slash jogged to catch up with his friend, Duff trailing close behind, “Dude, what happened?”

“Nothing. Vince is just a fucking asshole, what else is new.”

“Hey, seriously, what happened? It’s not like you to get in fights like that. And I thought you liked Vince?”

“Just fucking drop it, Slash!” 

That had Slash’s jaw clicking shut. Steven almost never snapped at him. He shared a look with Duff, who looked concerned but lost as to what to do. Swallowing thickly, the guitarist nodded, “Yeah. Yeah, okay. Sorry, man.” 

The rest of their walk home was silent. Slash could barely wrap his head around the night’s ending. After all, _he_ had been the one pushing Vince’s buttons all night. How did Steven end up throwing fists with him? And any ease Duff had managed with the terror twins was long gone, his body tense and stiff. When they arrived back at the Hell House, Axl and Izzy looked like they hadn’t moved since they left. Izzy raised an eyebrow when Steven stalked into his room, slamming the door behind him, but Slash simply shook his head. He’d explain as much as he could later. 

In their own room, Duff wasted no time grabbing on of the half empty bottles next to his bed, tipping his head back and downing most of it in a single pull in an attempt to soothe the anxiety that had dug its claws into him the moment he heard the fight start.

Slash sighed as he fell into his own bed. It looked like things were going to be tense in the Hell House for a little while longer.


	4. Chapter 4

“ _Please_ tell me I just smoked some bad weed last night and I didn’t _actually_ punch Vince in the face.”

Slash was still half asleep when Steven barged into his room. “Uuuuh,” Rubbing his eyes, he glanced around and wasn’t surprised to find that Duff was already awake and out somewhere, “I mean, I don’t know if you technically punched him in the face. There was definitely some hair pulling, but…”

“Fuuuuuuuuuck…” Steven let out a long groan, shuffling over to fall face-down next to Slash on his bed, “Shoot me, Slash. Just put me out of my misery.”

Sitting up, Slash pat his back sympathetically, “Hey, we were all fucked up. Everything will be fine-”

“No it won’t!” Steven wailed into the mattress, “God, what the fuck is happening? I was acting like _you_ last night.”

“Wait, what?” furrowing his brow, he shook at Steven’s shoulder, “What the fuck does that mean? I rarely get in fights!”

“I meant I was acting stupid.”

“Hey!” This time he shoved him harder, “That’s not better!” He may have been offended, but he couldn’t help but be a little relieved when Steven giggled softly. “Seriously, dude. What happened?”

It took a minute for the drummer to answer, “I have a crush and it made me act dumb,” he finally turned his face to look at Slash, smiling wryly, “just like you,” he explained.

Slash paused, “Oh,” he said, “that’s fair actually.”

“Yeah, I know,” Steven huffed out a laugh, but it quickly dissolved into a whine as he buried his face in his arms, “But at least you haven’t fucking decked your crush.”

“Wait, wait, hold on,” holding one hand up, Slash used the other to pinch the bridge of his nose. It was too early for this. “ _Vince_ is your crush?”

“Uh, yeah?” Looking up again, Steven looked confused, “I thought it was obvious?”

“Nope, definitely not obvious at all.”

“Well, you’re a bad judge, you’re so distracted by Duff I don’t think you’d notice if I dyed my hair green or some shit.”

“Am not!” He cried as Steven stood up, walking out of the room. Slash quickly followed after him.

“Izzy!” The drummer skipped over to the rhythm guitarist, the other man sighing into his coffee as he was approached by his band mates, “Izzy, did you know I have a crush on Vince?”

“I didn’t _want_ to know,” he mumbled tiredly.

“Is that a yes?”

“It’s a fuck off.”

Slash snickered as Steven huffed, “Oh come on! If you knew you have an obligation to help me out! You and Axl somehow manage to be in a more-or-less stable relationship. Who else can I turn to? Slash??” he gestured at his friend, “He shares a room with his crush and he _still_ can’t get it!”

“What the fuck, shut up, asshole!” Slash covered Steven’s mouth with both hands, head whipping around wildly in search of the tall bassist in case he had overheard.

“He’d not here, dumbass,” Izzy smirked, “Apparently he got called into work today.”

“Oh,” Slash should have been relieved, but instead he deflated at the realization that Duff would be gone all day.

“See! This is what I’m talking about!” Steven exclaimed.

“Shut up! You fucking _punched_ Vince, I think I’m a step above you at this point.”

“You punched Vince?” Izzy raised an eyebrow, “Nice. I should tell Axl, it might help cheer him up.”

As Izzy walked out of the kitchen, the other two followed after him. They were surprised when they walked past Izzy and Axl’s shared room to find it empty; they had expected the singer to still be holed up. But when they entered the living room, their eyes immediately fell on a lump of blankets sprawled out in a patch of sun on the floor, a few strands of red hair peeking out.

“I put him out here since our room doesn’t get any sun,” Izzy explained with a shrug.

“You two are sickeningly adorable,” Slash pouted.

Izzy ignored him, crouching next to the mass, “Hey, Axe, Steven punched Vince in the face.” It took a moment, but the fabric shifted just slightly. If Axl spoke, his words were too soft to reach Slash or Steven, but Izzy responded, “Last night, I think.”

“There was also hair pulling involved,” Slash chimed in, grinning when Steven shoved his shoulder.

There was more shifting, until a pale arm managed to escape to give a thumbs up in Steven’s general direction. Chuckling, Izzy gave his boyfriend a soft pat around his shoulder as he wormed his arm back into his cocoon. Standing, he gestured for the other two to sit on the couch with him.

“Alright, I’m awake now. Tell me what the fuck you lovesick idiots got into last night.”

“Yeah, I actually want to know the details, too,” Slash agreed, the three of them lounging on the beat up couch as Izzy sipped his coffee and Axl stayed in his motionless heap on the patch of sunlit carpet across from them.

Sighing heavily, Steven dropped his head into his hands as he explained, “We were both drunk and high and shit, and he kept talking about who he could hook up with since Duff was gone, and he mentioned practically every fucking person in the room except me. And so I tried to like, be cool or some shit and mention that, hey, fuck, _I’m_ available, y’know? And that stupid fucker offered to set me up with some chick, and then I think I called him a slut, and then it just… escalated.”

“Yeah, that sounds about right,” Izzy nodded. 

“At least you were interacting with him,” Slash mumbled, still feeling bad about his actions the previous night, “I was so determined to impress Duff I ended up ignoring him the whole night.”

“That also sounds right.”

Glaring at Izzy, Steven and Slash both slumped onto the couch, resigning themselves to wallowing for the day.

Izzy shook his head at the two of them, “You two are a sorry sight. I can’t believe you go out for _one night_ without me and Axl and you both manage to fumble your nonexistent love lives. That’s gotta be some sort of record.” Steven shoved him weakly as Slash flipped him off, making Izzy roll his eyes, “Oh for fuck’s sake,” he grumbled, “Coffee’s not enough for this, I need a drink. Or a hit. Actually both. All of you just…” he glanced around at his three band mates, each in some sort of lifeless heap, before sighing heavily, “...stay here.”

After a few minutes of silence, Slash rolled his head over to look at Steven, “This is dumb. We should just, like, find someone else. We get enough hot chicks crawling over us after shows these days.”

“True,” Steven sighed, “maybe if we find someone hot enough to fuck we can just forget about these bastards.”

“You’re both pussies,” Izzy deadpanned as he reentered the room, coffee spiked to Hell and back and a fresh flow of dope in his blood. Dropping onto the couch, he stretched his legs out over the other two men’s laps, “If you really thought that would work you’d have done it already.” Receiving two groans of reluctant agreement, he continued, “And besides, you’re barely trying. You don’t get to give up until you actually put an effort into it.” Immediately they both started arguing.

“I have to put effort into it!” Steven exclaimed, “Were you not listening to what happened yesterday? The asshole was just too dense to notice it!”

“I spend everyday talking to Duff and I’m still getting nowhere!”

“He literally flirts with everything that breathes except me!”

“And I can’t even like, get a little handsy cause he’s jumpy as fuck!”

“He even flirted with Duff-!”

“ _Vince_ fucking _flirted_ with Duff-!”

“But he didn’t even notice me!”

“And he didn’t even realize how jealous I was!”

“What else am I supposed to do?”

“What else _can_ I do?”

When they finally ended their rants, they found Izzy giving them an unimpressed stare. He took a long drink from his mug before responding, “Steven,” he spoke slowly, like he was talking to a child, “I’m pretty sure next to no one knows you have a crush on Vince. You’re all loving and happy and shit with everyone. The only difference between the people you’re friends with and the people you bang is _whether or not you bang them_.”

Steven sputtered, wanting to deny Izzy’s words but, unfortunately unable to. Taking another drink, Izzy turned his sights on Slash, “And you,” he pointed almost accusingly, “your crush is obvious to us because we know you. Duff probably just thinks you’re being a nice roommate or some shit.”

“But,” Slash frowned, “even as friends, I feel like no matter how close we get he always…” he hesitated, casting a quick glance towards the mound of blankets on the floor, “he’s always closer to someone else. Like, he’s always more comfortable with other people than he is with me,” he finished sadly.

Humming thoughtfully, Izzy debated his response. But before he could say anything, a snapping sound cut through the room. Looking over, they saw Axl’s arm had emerged again, snapping his fingers to get their attention. After a moment, he waved his hand in a ‘come here’ motion.

Izzy raised an eyebrow, “All of us or just Slash?”

Axl held up two fingers, and Izzy kicked at Slash’s side, pushing him off the couch. Frowning in confusion, Slash crept over to Axl’s side, kneeling next to him and leaning close. Shuffling, the singer tugged the blankets down to reveal the top half of his face- eyes red with dark circles under them.

“How relaxed are you around Duff?” he asked, his voice soft and slightly raspy.

The question surprised him, “Uh,” Slash blinked a few times as he considered his answer, “I mean, I’m not… _not_ relaxed around him? But like… I like him a fucking lot, so I guess I’m usually a little more nervous around him than you guys?” 

“Hm,” Axl raised a tired eyebrow, and then, before Slash could say anything else, he burrowed back into the comforter, “Okay. Now go away.”

Slash spread his arms in confusion, turning to Steven and Izzy with a look of offended confusion. Returning to the couch, he repeated the short conversation to the other two, “Like, what the fuck was that about?”

Izzy leaned forward, putting his head in his hands and sighing long and hard while Steven giggled, “Oh my God, dude. _Dude_.”

“ _What_?” 

“Jesus fuck, I feel way better about my own situation now.”

Slash shoved at him, Steven still laughing as he ran into the kitchen, the guitarist following him still bickering and clueless. Shaking his head in amusement, Izzy stood and made his way over to Axl, laying down and stretching out next to him. The red head shuffled a bit to flop his head and one arm across Izzy’s chest.

“...We weren’t that dumb before we got together, right?” Axl mumbled into his chest.

Laughing, Izzy pressed a kiss onto the top of the singer’s hair, “Oh babe,” he grinned, “We _absolutely_ were.”

~~~~~~

By the time Duff got home in the early evening, the sun had gone done, leading Izzy to carry the Axl burrito back into their room, and the kitchen was in disarray from Slash and Steven throwing things at each other as they bickered about their respective romantic stupidity. On the plus side, they had at least worn themselves out and come to a reluctant understanding that they were both dumbasses. 

“Um…” Duff looked around at the mess, before turning to look at Steven and Slash, who were sitting at the kitchen table with a few empty beer bottles between them, “Hi?” The two boys mumbled out a greeting. Clearing his throat, Duff held up a paper bag almost nervously, “I brought food?”

 _That_ had them perking up. “Really?” Steven grinned excitedly, “Fuck, Duff you’re the best!”

Chuckling, the bassist set the bag down on the counter, “I mean, it’s not much. Just leftovers and shit from work.”

“It’s food, therefore you’re my new favorite,” Steven insisted. 

He and Slash cleared the bottles off the table, allowing Duff to unpack the paper bag, “I’ve got some lasagna, a few pieces of garlic bread, and a bit of ravioli.”

Faced with actual food, Slash and Steven didn’t even bother with plates, each grabbing a fork and eating right out of the containers, expressing their gratitude through mouthfuls of food.

Duff laughed at their enthusiasm, “Save some for Izzy and Axl, you fucking animals!”

Some of the food was reluctantly set aside before the two continued devouring their meal, “You gonna eat any, Duff?” Slash asked.

Shaking his head, the bassist leaned back in his seat, “Nah, I ate at work.” The three band mates chatted amicably for a few minutes as the food steadily disappeared before Duff finally turned to the drummer hesitantly, “So, hey, Stevie, are you, uh, alright? After last night, I mean. Things got kinda intense at the end there.”

“Oh,” Steven blinked in surprise. With all the morning discussion and bickered they’d had, he’d sort of forgotten that Duff hadn’t been around to hear all the details, “Yeah, no, it’s cool. I mean, I’m gonna hang with Tommy tonight to get a feel for how bad I fucked things up but,” we waved a hand, smiling wryly, “just love and war bullshit, y’know?” Steven tried to keep his words lighthearted and nonchalant, but he could still see little flickers of fear, or sadness, or both, flash across Duff’s eyes.

“Hah, yeah, of course, that… makes sense,” he tried to laugh, to stay natural, but Duff's whole body seemed to deflate in something like defeat. 

When the bassist looked down to fiddle with his bracelets, Steven sent a look of thinly veiled panic towards Slash. They had been friends long enough for the guitarist to hear the words in his head loud and clear: _Holy shit did I fuck things up with Vince AND Duff??_

Before they could press the issue further, Izzy wandered out, pausing when he saw the containers of food, “Oh Hell yes, something that’s not ramen,” he said excitedly.

“We were even nice and saved some for you and Axl,” Slash pushed one of the takeout boxes towards him.

“Awesome, hold on,” slinking back into his room, they could hear some shuffling, murmured words, and then soft curses. When Izzy returned, he was carrying a familiar bundle of blankets, but this time it was squirming and releasing a series of muffled expletives. Izzy paid it no mind though, unceremoniously placing it on the kitchen counter before turning to sit at the table with the rest of the band. The grumbling continued, and when he noticed the three sets of raised eyebrows, Izzy merey shrugged as he pulled the tray of lasagna towards him, “Axl is mad ‘cause I’m not letting him isolate himself for once in his fucking life.” A hand wormed out of the comforters just long enough to give a firm middle finger in the man’s direction.

It was strange, Slash thought. Steven was nervously chatting with Duff, scooting his chair closer to try to bridge whatever gap he’d accidentally created, rambling about how Tommy was going to help him fix things. Slash tried to insert himself in their conversation while also chatting with Izzy to keep the other guitarist’s mind off the unmoving, silent, hidden body on the countertop across from them. The dirty, run-down kitchen was packed with five kids who all seemed to carry their own flavor of deep exhaustion and pain with them. 

But they also carried the same flavor of ambition and drive and determination. They still managed to fill their hellhole of a house with laughter and creativity, drawing each other out of their own heads, even managing to literally draw Axl out of his shelter after a couple hours (well, the top half of his face. But still). 

When the night ended, Steven was still trying to figure out what to do about the Vince situation as he left to find Tommy, and Izzy still had to carry Axl back to their room, and him and Slash still shot up together to take the edge off, and Duff still got wasted before he went to bed, and Slash still didn’t know how to move forward with the bassist. Honestly, things still weren’t great.

But still. Still. Slash couldn’t help but feel like maybe they _would_ be. He couldn’t help but have hope.

They'd get there.


	5. Chapter 5

Slash could have cried with relief as things finally seemed to return to normal around him. Well, as normal as things ever were with Guns N’ Roses.

Axl finally emerged from his black mood, jumping right back into pushing his bandmates to get moving with their music, which meant Izzy could relax as well. Tommy’s advice to Steven regarding Vince had been “just fucking talk to him, dude,” and Steven had wholeheartedly agreed and then immediately worked on avoiding the blonde singer like it was his job, which meant he had no problem throwing himself into his drumming. Music was a safe space for all of them; when they practiced they didn't feel like they had to walk on eggshells around each other.

Of course, as they got back into writing and rehearsing their music, Slash had to keep his head down in order to focus on his playing instead of being distracted by their bassist. He had assumed he’d be used to the tall blonde by now, at least enough to be able to play with him without snapping a string and making a fool of himself.

But Duff was _so different_ when he played bass. He was always so tense, even when he joked and partied with the rest of them, always a little bit wary and nervous, eyes following any hand that moved too close, looking over his shoulder every few minutes. Slash couldn’t help but worry sometimes. He wished he knew what to do to help the other boy relax. Even when Duff laughed it felt like he was bracing himself for… something.

And yet all of that went away when GNR played together. Duff played their existing songs flawlessly, and he came up with amazing riffs for new songs, and when he played it was like everything weighing him down got left at the door. Suddenly he could move freely, dancing with the music and flipping his hair back when it got too wild in his face. When the music started, Slash couldn’t help but feel like Duff was the most himself. It was attractive as fuck.

By the end of rehearsal, there were strands of sweat-slick blonde hair stuck to Duff forehead and Slash decided it’d be a good idea to just count stains on the carpet for a bit.

“We sound awesome,” Axl grinned, chugging a bottle of water, “which is good considering I twisted Motley’s arm and we’re opening for them next Thursday," he tacked on nonchalantly.

“Wait what?” Slash snapped his head over to the singer, the rest of the band wearing similar expressions of shock, “Since when?”

"Got a solid confirmation yesterday."

"Dude!" Steven flailed indignantly, his eyes panicked, "You gotta run that shit by the rest of us!"

"Why?" Axl pouted, "It's been way too long since we last performed, and Motley's been bringing good crowds so it's perfect." He frowned, "What, do you _not_ want to do the show?"

"It's the fucking principle of it!" Slash huffed, while Steven groaned into his hands.

Izzy sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, "Look, it's already done, so let's not get all fucked up about it," he turned to Axl, "But next time, call a fucking band meeting or something. We live in a shoebox together, just fucking yell or whatever."

The singer didn't look completely convinced, but he hummed in agreement which was enough for Slash at least. But Steven still looked distressed.

"Fuck," he let his head drop onto his drums, "you're ruining my plans for avoiding Vince."

Axl's eyes lit up, "Ooooh, make sure I'm around if you punch him again. Or at least take pictures."

"I'm not going to fucking punch him again!"

"...Well that's disappointing," Axl huffed.

Packing up their things, they soon found themselves sitting around a table at a bar, having migrated towards alcohol without even thinking.

"Should we change our look a bit?" Slash asked suddenly, catching his bandmates off guard.

"What do you mean?” Axl frowned defensively, “What’s wrong with our look?”

"Just for the show at least," Slash shrugged, "I mean, Motely Crue has a pretty hardcore, over the top aesthetic, so the audience will probably be into that sort of thing. Maybe we should play up some glam ourselves." The singer hummed in consideration, and Slash quickly chugged more of his beer as a thought clicked in his head, “Duff used to play all sorts of punk stuff in Seattle!” He pointed at the bass played excitedly, “He could definitely help us get the look down!”

Duff nearly choked on his drink, face flushing, “I-I mean…”

Steven gasped dramatically, “Are we gonna get makeovers? This is gonna be awesome, I’m fucking down for this!”

Suddenly, despite their initial hesitation, most of the band found themselves debating who could pull off the glam look better, and what sort of looks they could do, and guessing what Duff would come up with even as the bassist quietly gaped at them.

“You guys are… serious?”

His words were quiet, but still caught the attention of all four bickering friends. “Sure,” Izzy shrugged, “What’s the harm? Especially if it can catch us some more attention.”

“Plus we can fuck with the Crue,” Axl grinned deviously.

“Of _course_ that’s why you’re agreeing,” Slash shoved his shoulder lightly.

“Well…” Duff drawled, smirking into his drink, “I dunno, I only have like, a week and a half. I think I need some fairy godmother shit to turn you pumpkins into anything glam.”

“Oh fuck you!” Izzy laughed, as they all started complaining over each other. But Duff was laughing too, and Slash felt his heart stop when the bassist leaned against him just slightly. The past week felt so far away now, as the boys all got drunk or high or both, laughing and sharing delusions of grandeur. He tossed an arm around Duff’s shoulders and kept it there for the rest of the evening.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Hey, Slash?” 

The guitarist practically shot up when he heard Duff’s voice. It was a week before their show, and when he woke up to an empty room and a silent house Slash had assumed the bassist was at work or something, resigning himself to strumming on his guitar lazily and maybe getting high while he mentally debated the least awkward way to kiss a man so absurdly tall. So seeing him here in front of him, shuffling in the doorway of their room, had him lighting up.

“Duff! I didn’t know you were home!”

Shrugging, he hummed, “I just ran out for a little bit. But, um…” his fingers tapped against his thigh nervously, “Y’know how you told me about how you used to steal shit as a kid just for fun or whatever?”

Slash’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. Now that he thought about it, he vaguely recalled rambling about his klepto days during one of the times they had been hanging out- Duff’s voice had trailed off shakily when Slash asked about what growing up in Seattle had been like, and he’d been desperate to get that sad expression off the other man’s face and so he had launched into tales of his own wild childhood, drawing shy laughs from the bassist until he was relaxed again. 

Honestly though, he hadn’t expected it to ever come back up, “Yeaaaah…?” he stretched the word out with an almost suspicious tone.

But then Duff looked up at him, grinning slowly, and Slash felt his heart stop in the best way possible, “Wanna help me out with something?”

~~~~~

“Oh fuck yes, this is perfect!” Duff darted forward excitedly, snatching a button up top made of sheer black lace off the rack. He held it up, brow furrowed as he considered the garment seriously, “Do you think this would suit Steven or Izzy better?”

“Hm, I’m gonna say Izzy,” Slash grinned. 

This was the second thrift store they had hit. Duff had pouted when he mentioned the band’s existing wardrobes, “I get it, we all love leather,” he had rolled his eyes and Slash felt practically giddy at seeing this side of the bassist, “but we could use a little bit of variety for fucks sake.”

So Slash happily trailed along, chiming in when Duff pulled different articles of clothing out, the two of them discussing what would look best on who, and looking over their shoulders as they shoved their chosen items into their jackets and under their shirts.

Duff treated his mission with exaggerated gravity, carefully debating each item that caught his eye before committing to it, struggling to fight back a smirk every time he held up two items for Slash to choose between, “Choose wisely. Lives are at stake here. Don’t fucking laugh, Slash, this is very serious business! Our band’s future depends on whether or not you choose pinstripes or leopard print!”

By the time they reached the third thrift store, Duff was mostly looking for accessories, rifling through bins of jewelry while Slash eyed a derby bowler hat and contemplated how to sneak it out of the store without damaging it. 

Twirling the hat on his finger, he couldn’t resist watching Duff for a minute, a small smile on the taller man’s face as he hummed mindlessly, stealthily slipping some rings and bracelets into his coat pocket before turning his attention to a box of scarves.

“You’re having fun with this, aren’t you?” Slash grinned, “Getting back into the punk and glam aesthetic.”

Duff snapped his head up, giving Slash a quick wide eyed glance before looking away again, trying to hide his blush, “Um, I mean, I’m not…”

Immediately, Slash felt a little guilty for pulling the bassist out of the moment, replacing his carefree movements with nervous fidgeting, so he reached out to tug on a strand of blonde hair lightly, “Hey,” he smiled softly when he finally got Duff to look at him again, “I think it’s awesome. Plus I can’t wait to see you rocking a punk look.”

Laughing lightly, Duff smacked his hand away playfully. Turning back to the scarves he was searching through, he shyly looked at Slash out of the corner of his eye before admitting hesitantly, “...When I first moved to LA I had blue hair.”

“No way!” Slash felt himself grinning excitedly, trying to picture the image in his head, reaching out again to twirl Duff’s hair between his fingers, “That’s fucking rad. Why’d you get rid of it?”

Shrugging, Duff examined a silver sequined scarf intensely, “It was… someone told me it looked dumb. And, I mean, they weren’t wrong. It didn’t really… do me any favors,” he tried to laugh it off as he stood, holding the chosen scarf close, but he seemed almost sad as he cast a glance towards the guitarist.

“Oh, that’s some bullshit. Who told you that?” Because Slash wanted _words_ with whoever had the nerve to say something like that to Duff. But the bassist only shrugged, so he continued earnestly, “You couldn’t look bad if you tried.”

Blinking in surprise, Duff turned away, “Oh shut up,” he blushed.

But the guitarist only smiled wider as he pressed, “Pretty sure you could shave your head and still be unfairly hot.”

“Stop it!” he pushed Slash away lightly with a huff of laughter and started to walk away down the aisle, muttering, “You don’t get to call me hot when _you’re_ standing right there.”

It felt like a record scratch in his head, “Come again?” Slash was pretty sure his jaw was on the floor. 

“I- what?” Duff glanced over his shoulder nervously for just a second before walking a little faster, “Nothing.”

“Hold up, what did you just say?” Darting in front of the blonde, Slash stood to face him, a smirk slowly spreading across his face.

“Nothing, I didn’t say anything,” he answered too quickly, face bright red.

“Oh no no no,” Slash held his arms out to block Duff’s way when he tried to walk around him, grinning like a cat with a bowl of cream, “You think I’m hot?”

“I-” Sputtering for a moment, the bassist couldn’t seem to get any words out. So instead he turned on his heel and started walking the other direction.

“Oh come on, man!” He followed after, laughing, “Do you need me to call you hot again first?”

“ _No!_ ” When he turned back to face him Duff looked almost horrified. He quickly ducked his head in a vain attempt to hide the bright red of his cheeks.

“Cause you are,” Slash sing-songed, stepping a little closer, “You’re crazy hot. Distractingly attractive. I can go into more detail if you want-”

“Okay! Alright! Stop! Stop making fun of me!” Duff snapped suddenly. He was still blushing, twisting the scarf between his hands nervously. But now he seemed upset, brow furrowed and shoulders stiff and hiked up around his ears. Slash could see the tension in his jaw as he ground out, “I get it, okay? You’re like, the hottest guy in LA and I probably look like a fucking joke next to you, you don’t need to rub it in.”

Even as Duff spun around and started walking away again, it took a moment for Slash to even process his words. He couldn’t wrap his head around it, but he felt like he just stuck his finger in an open wound. Quickly rushing forward, he grabbed Duff’s elbow to gently pull his tense body to a stop, “Woah, hey, hold on-”

Duff swallowed thickly, looking away in something like shame as he sighed, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-”

“Did you think I was being sarcastic?” Slash asked incredulously. 

“I-” he blinked in confusion, shuffling his feet nervously, “I mean…” he trailed off, shrugging in answer.

“ _Dude_ ,” the word comes out on a breath, because Slash doesn’t even feel like he has room to be shocked or confused right now. He’s too busy being sad. “Dude, no,” he shook his head vehemently, “I was _definitely_ not being sarcastic. I wasn’t joking. I think you’re hot as Hell,” _I think you’re fucking beautiful_ , is what he wants to say, but something about it feels like too much too soon, especially when Duff is staring at him in blatant disbelief, still clutching that slivery scarf in a white-knuckled grip like a lifeline, “You are a seriously good-looking guy,” he gave a grin he hoped was soothing, “and hey, there’s no reason we can’t _both_ be hot, right?”

It took a moment, but finally the bassist snorted lightly, offering a weak smile in return, “So diplomatic. We’re definitely going to have to put you in charge of anything press related when we finally make it big, the rest of us would probably fuck up even with a script.”

He always does that, Slash has realized. This wasn’t the first time Duff had slipped and revealed a glimpse of what Slash was coming to realize was a very battered and fragile self-worth, not that it ever ceased to catch the guitarist completely off guard. But if Slash tried to challenge him on his opinions of himself, Duff would simply smile and redirect the conversation, not arguing, but not agreeing. It made no sense to him. He couldn’t grasp what he was witnessing. 

But he got the feeling he was collecting pieces to a puzzle whose picture he already didn’t like.

“I can’t decide if I’m excited for the day Axl punches someone on camera or not,” Slash gave Duff his out. He always did.

Duff laughed, his shoulders relaxing at the new topic, “It’ll depend on whether the person he punches deserves it or not.”

“Good point.”

He knew he'd have to talk to Duff about this eventually. But not yet. He didn't think _either_ of them were ready yet.

With some careful timing, they got out of the store with their pilfered goods, shoving the fabric and jewelry into a couple backpacks they had stashed in an ally around the corner. “Okay, just one more stop,” Duff announced, turning a corner and heading down the street.

“Yeah? Where?” Slash asked.

“Drug store, we gotta grab some makeup,” he stated as if the answer was obvious.

Slash frowned in confusion, “But we already have makeup at home.”

The look of sheer offense Duff shot him had him biting back a smile, “A few broken eyeliner pencils that probably should have been tossed out years ago is _not_ going to cut it Slash.”

Snickering, Slash shook his head as they continued walking. They hadn’t gone far when Duff’s eyes landed on a woman walking towards them, a small Victoria’s Secret bag in her hand. After she passed, the bassist eagerly slapped at Slash’s arm to get his attention.

“What, what, what?” he playfully pushed Duff’s hand away, raising an eyebrow questioningly.

The bassist smirked mischievously, “A bra, a car battery and some jumper cables walk into a bar…”

“Oh _no_ ,” he groaned dramatically, but he was already smiling.

“The car battery and jumper cables go find a seat while the bra asks the bartender for three beers. The bartender replies, ‘I’m not serving you! You’re obviously off your tits and your two mates look like they’re about to start something’!”

Snorting, Slash quickly dissolved into laughter, elbowing Duff in the ribs as the other man grinned triumphantly, “Goddamn it, Duff,” he shook his head in a mix of fondness and disbelief, “Where do you _get_ this shit?”

Still laughing, the two made their way into the store, heading to the makeup aisle and sticking out like sore thumbs. It didn’t take very long, Duff seemed to know exactly what he wanted, grabbing a few eye shadow kits, some mascara, and, to Slash’s surprise, a few tubes of lipstick. He knew Motley Crue usually wore lipstick, but he hadn’t expected Duff to use it for them.

They were heading towards the exit when a stern looking man wearing an employee vest called out, “Hey! You two! Wait right there!”

For a moment, the two rockers were frozen, watching the manager approach with an angry scowl on his face. They should have been more careful, Slash cursed to himself, they were practically the poster boys for suspicious characters in a place like this. Glancing over at Duff, the bassist looked back at him, eyes wide like a deer in the headlights.

Fuck it.

“Go, go, go, GO!” Slash grabbed Duff’s hand, dragging him quickly out the door and onto the street.

“Hey! Get back here!” 

The manager screamed after them, but they didn’t stop. Turning and bolting, Slash pulled Duff behind him, weaving through the scattered people in their way and shoving through a group of screeching older women. The shouts and curses of the store manager got more distant, the man clearly not bothering to run after them. Still, they kept running for another three blocks before ducking between two buildings just to be safe.

Leaning against the brick wall, they both panted loudly, their backpacks heavy with stolen goods and hanging loosely from their shoulders. After a few minutes, wherein they both caught their breaths and assumed that no one was chasing them, they turned to look at each other.

Then they burst out laughing.

Within moments they were out of breath again, leaning against each other as they laughed hysterically, “Oh my fucking God,” Duff snickered, “This is why I wanted you to come with me.”

“I can’t believe we were so smooth all day and then nearly got taken down in a Goddamn Walgreens,” Slash cackled.

“I want to be surprised but I’m just not.”

“Could you imagine if we had to call the guys to bail us out cause we stole fucking lipstick?”

“They’d probably just leave us there.”

As they caught their breaths for the second time in as many minutes, Slash peeked to look around the corner, “I think we’re in the clear,” he grinned at Duff, “Fuck, I need a drink or something after that.”

“Agreed,” Duff nodded enthusiastically, readjusting his grip on his backpack, “There’s a bar a couple blocks away that also serves pizza,” he suggested.

“Oh fuck yes.”

Moving to exit the side ally, Duff leading the way, Slash suddenly realized that they were still holding hands from their getaway. After a moment of hesitation, he decided not to let go just yet.

After all. Duff hadn’t let go either.

~~~~~~~~

“Here, you go grab a seat,” The place was relatively crowded, looking like they were catching the end of the lunch rush, and Duff left Slash no room for argument as he gently pushed him in the direction of a small table with two empty seats while he made his way towards the bar.

Slash felt like a teenage girl, already missing the warmth of Duff’s hand in his own as he snagged the table wedged in a corner, sitting right next to a dirty window looking out onto the street. Watching cars pass, he waited for five or ten minutes, wondering what was taking Duff so long.

He got his answer though when the bassist returned, two bottles of beer in one hand and two plates carefully balanced in the other. Slash blinked in surprise as he set down the drinks and slid one of the plates in front of him before sitting down.

Looking down at the two slices of pizza, Slash suddenly realized how hungry he was, grinning gratefully, “Thanks man! What do I owe you?”

But Duff shook his head, “Don’t worry about it, it’s on me.”

“What? Are you sure?” Slash frowned.

“It’s fine, really,” Duff insisted, “It’s like, a thanks. For helping out and shit.”

“You don’t have to do that-” Slash started to argue, but Duff cut him off.

“Seriously, it’s cool,” his fingers peeled at the label on his beer as he looked up and sent Slash a shy smile, “If it makes you feel better, you can pay next time, okay?”

_Next time._

“Okay,” Slash answered slowly, focusing everything he had on not grinning like an idiot. But he was so focused on trying to play it cool that the words slipped out his mouth almost against his will, “Sure. It’s a date.”

Duff choked on his drink a little. 

But he didn’t disagree.


	6. Chapter 6

It was unusual for Slash to have trouble sleeping. 

Other than sometimes waking up in the middle of the night when he needed to use the restroom or something, for the most part Slash had no issue falling asleep and staying asleep. The drugs and alcohol probably helped that along a bit, too. But tonight, he found himself staring at the ceiling, eyes stubbornly open and body as awake as it was when he first fell into bed hours ago. 

Guns N’ Roses had their show with Motley Crue tomorrow night. They were all stoked to be performing again- they didn’t normally have such a long break between shows, so it felt good to start getting back into the routine. Axl had even kept his word and run a few more gigs by them before getting them booked, so they had the next few weeks planned. And they all agreed, opening for Motley was a good way to kick off their next wind. 

Duff sorted through the clothes he and Slash had stolen, piecing together potential outfits for each member, “Just wait until I do your makeup,” he had grinned, “that’s what’s really gonna make it.” They all laughed when Axl got Izzy to help him write ‘GLAM SUCKS’ in liquid paper on one of his pairs of leather pants, and Duff agreed it was perfect. The five boys passed around bottles of nightrain, talking about anything and everything and nothing before finally retreating to their respective rooms.

Which brought Slash to his present predicament. He groaned in frustration, pulling his pillow over his head. He wasn’t sure what his problem was- he was excited for the show, sure, but not too excited to sleep. Maybe he hadn’t drank enough that night. If nothing else, maybe drinking more would help him just pass out. Nodding his head to himself, he pushed his pillow away, sighing as he sat up. 

But just as he was getting ready to roll out of bed, a soft whimper reached his ears. He paused, listening in the dark. For a moment he thought maybe he had imagined it, but then it happened again- a strained whine and a rustle of blankets.

Leaning forward, Slash’s eyes adjusted in the dark until he could make out Duff’s mattress in the corner. His pile of blankets and clothes that usually surrounded him had been shoved away onto the floor, and his tall body seemed to curl into itself.

Slash couldn’t resist standing and creeping a little closer, frowning as Duff whimpered again. As he stood next to the mattress, the bassist turned onto his side, facing Slash and allowing him to see the pained expression on his face. He could see his eyes darting behind his eyelids, his brows furrowed as he muttered. Slash couldn’t make out the words, but he sounded… scared.

Dropping down to kneel beside him, Slash reached out to gently shake the other man’s shoulder, “Hey, Duff,” he whispered, “Wake up.” The bassist flinched away from him, a wounded noise coming from deep in his throat that made Slash’s heart clench. “Duff,” he said more forcefully this time, “Hey, man, wake up!” 

As he gripped his shoulder tighter, Duff’s eyes suddenly shot open, and he jolted upright with a shriek. Slash yelped in surprise, falling back onto his ass as Duff pressed his body against the wall, blinked at him in half-awake confusion.

For a long moment the two musicians simply stared at each other. Finally, Duff seemed to clear the haze of sleep, “Slash? I…” his eyes widened as he seemed to realize what had happened, “Fuck, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“Hey, no, dude, it’s fine,” Slash held his hands up, “I just…” he hesitated, sitting up straighter to face Duff, “You looked like you were having a bad dream.”

Duff’s eyes held a mixture of guilt and nervousness, “I’m sorry,” he says sincerely, “Did I wake you up?”

“Nah,” Slash sighed, waving him off, “I couldn’t sleep.” He looked over at Duff, taking in his slightly shaky hands and downcast eyes, "Are you alright?" The bassist nodded silently, and Slash didn't really believe him. He thought about how often he found Duff up in the middle of the night, and how they all assumed he was just an 'early riser', and he blurted out without really thinking, “Do you have nightmares a lot?”

“Um…” Duff ran a hand through his hair, his face flushing with embarrassment, “I mean, not like, every night, but… yeah, a lot I guess.”

Slash frowned, “That sucks, dude.”

Shrugging, Duff fiddled with the hem of his shirt, “It’s whatever, I’m used to it. I usually just grab a few drinks until I pass out again,” he grinned wryly. 

That certainly was in character for Duff, Slash thought as he nodded. But something was still bothering him, and, well, in for a penny, “And you hang out with Axl, right?” Duff snapped his head up, mouth parting slightly in surprise. When he couldn’t seem to find a response, Slash shrugged and explained, “I saw you guys talking a couple times,” he felt his face heat up as he realized how creepy that made him sound and scrambled to elaborate, “Just, like, when I got up to take a piss, y’know?”

There is a moment of silence, but then Duff nods, “Yeah, sometimes we… run into each other…” he pauses, before quietly admitting, “Axl has nightmares too.”

Slash suddenly feels stupid for being jealous. “Oh,” he says softly.

Duff shrugged again, “Really, it’s fine. I’m sorry again for bugging you. You can go back to bed, I’m fine.”

Thinking carefully, Slash weighs his options. He knows what he _wants_ to do, but it’s risky, with equal chances of working out amazingly or going up in flames. But in all honesty, he feels like maybe he and Duff have reached a point where a bit of risk is okay- if he fucks up spectacularly, he thinks Duff will forgive him. 

So, steeling himself, Slash smirked, “Hey, scooch over.”

“I-... what?” Duff blinked in confusion.

“Yeah, come on, make room,” he waved gently, grinning mischievously, “We’re having a slumber party.”

Duff let out a bark of laughter in surprise and, to Slash’s glee, shifted over to make space on the mattress, “We already share a room, isn’t every night kind of a slumber party?”

“That’s like, amateur shit. We need some legit sleepover tonight,” he crawled up next to Duff and started pulling the blankets and clothes off the floor to pile mostly on top of the bassist, “Trust me, when Steven or I have bad trips, you just gotta get back into your middle school bullshit and invade each others’ personal space. If it’s really bad we can play truth or dare,” he wiggled his eyebrows and Duff burst out laughing. 

God, Slash fell a little more every time the blonde laughed, “Well, I can’t really argue with that logic, can I.”

“Nope. My argument is air tight.”

Chuckling, Duff fell back onto the bed. Slash took the opportunity to shove more of the bassist’s blankets on top of him, practically burying the other man as he laughed, “Hey! You’re gonna suffocate me!”

“I want you to be cozy!” Slash snickered as Duff shoved his arms away.

“Go the fuck to sleep, you ass,” Duff laughed softly, turning his head to face away from the guitarist as he settled down to lay beside him.

Despite having spent the last few hours attempting to do just that, Slash found that sleep was the last thing he wanted now, “You first,” he joked, “I have to stay awake to ward off bad dreams,” he explained.

Turning to look at him again, Duff raised an eyebrow, “I don’t think that’s how that works.”

“Well not with that attitude!” 

Snorting, Duff rolled his eyes, but he was smiling as he turned away again. Slash felt like a creep, but he couldn’t help but stare. He shoved his hands under his armpits to restrain himself from reaching out and stroking the bassist’s skin or petting his hair or just wrapping his arms around him and pulling him close. Maybe it wasn’t how it worked, but he wanted to protect Duff from whatever was going on in his head, wanted to shield him from whatever chased him in his sleep. 

“...Hey, Slash?”

Jumping a bit in surprise, Slash felt a blush spread across his face. Duff hadn’t turned around, but he still felt as though he had been caught in his staring, “Uh, yeah?”

There was a long stretch of silence. He was opening his mouth to ask what was wrong when Duff sighed, his voice small when he spoke, “...Nothing. Nevermind.”

Frowning, Slash pushed himself up onto his elbows, “Are you sure? You can-”

“What do you call a sleepwalking nun?” Duff blurted out, snapping his head to look up at him.

Blinking at the interruption, Slash felt the corners of his mouth twitching against his will, “Do _not_ -”

“A roamin’ Catholic.”

“Oh my _God_ ,” Slash tried to groan even as he laughed. Snatching the pillow from under Duff’s head, he smacked the bassist with it lightly, “You see what you’ve done? You’ve triggered the pillow fight portion of the slumber party! I hope you’re happy!” 

Duff laughed as he effortlessly stole the pillow back, holding it tight to his chest as Slash struggled to tug it back, “What can I say? I am committed to this sleepover bullshit!”

“I’ve created a monster,” Slash moaned dramatically, falling onto his back as Duff snickered. 

Eventually the two musicians settled, and even though Duff still wouldn’t face him, he allowed their arms to stay pressed together. Slash doesn’t know how long they lay there together, awake and quiet in the dark, but he finds himself soothed by the bassist’s warmth next to him and starts to drift off before he knows it.

He hopes he has the same effect on Duff.

~~~~~~~~~

“Oh my God, how does Motley Crue do this every fucking day?” 

“Quit your bitching, I’m the one doing all the work,” Duff huffed.

“I can tell you right now I’m gonna sweat most of this shit off,” Steven whined.

Duff wordlessly held up a bottle of setting spray, “You’re not getting rid of my hard work that easily,” he smirked, “now close your eyes and shut up or I’m gonna spray this directly on your tongue.”

Steven grumbled, but obeyed, allowing Duff to finish. Behind them, Slash snickered as he watched. He didn’t exactly blame Steven- he couldn’t see any of them committing to the glam thing on a regular basis- but it was still fun to watch the bassist transform them.

Izzy and Axl had gone first. The rhythm guitarist had black jeans with safety pins running down the front, a sheer lace top, unbuttoned but tied together at the bottom, several fake pearl necklaces around his neck, and a black cap on his head. Duff had decided to keep his makeup minimal, sticking just to eyeliner and mascara. The look wasn’t particularly over the top, but it suited him, and Slash, Duff, and Steven pointedly ignored the way Axl bit his lip as he looked him up and down.

Meanwhile, the singer had a fairly simple outfit- his black leather pants with “GLAM SUCKS” on one leg, and a cut up white graphic tee- but Duff had gone wilder with his hair and makeup. The red locks were teased up several inches around his head, and he had dark eyeshadow along with eyeliner and mascara. The look was finished with a light sheen of lipgloss.

This time, Duff couldn’t afford to ignore the way Izzy was looking at Axl. “Hey, if you assholes mess up your makeup before the show, I swear to God I will pour fucking marinara sauce on your bed!”

Izzy blinked, “That’s oddly specific.”

“I can get it in mass quantities from work. Don’t test me.”

Steven fidgeted in his seat, “I have never wanted to touch my face as badly as I do right now.”

“Do NOT touch your face!”

“I know, I know!” The drummer also had a full face of makeup, blue and purple eyeshadow contrasting with the dark mascara. His hair was teased, though not as drastically as Axl’s, and his outfit consisted of a tight black tank top with a shimmery silver scarf around his neck and silver bangles on both arms.

Duff sighed, “Go do sound check or something to distract yourself.”

Nodding, Steven jumped up to exit the cramped dressing room at the back of the club. Axl and Izzy shared a quick look before following after him.

“We’ll go with you,” Axl smirked, “In case you punch Vince again.”

“I’m not going to punch Vince!”

“Let me dream, okay?”

And just like that, the door closed behind them and Slash and Duff were left alone, the guitarist the last one to get his makeup done.

Smiling shyly, Duff jerked his chin at the stool in front of him, “Come on, your turn.”

Slash swallowed thickly. Getting dressed had been the easy part. He had his usual leather pants, but with three decorative belts winding around them. A plain white t-shirt contrasted with the stark lines of black suspenders, a few long gold and red necklaces laying against his chest. A single fishnet glove on his left arm went up to his bicep, and a derby bowler hat rested on top of his mass of hair. 

But he had opted to go last as far as getting his makeup done in the desperate hope that he could brace himself. He didn’t have a problem with makeup or anything- he wore eyeliner from time to time like the rest of the guys- but he found himself oddly intimidated by the process.

Or, it wasn’t that odd, he supposed. Slash was used to hiding behind his hair most of the time, never quite comfortable looking directly into people’s eyes, and especially with Duff he usually found himself ducking his head to try to hide any evidence of his infatuation. But now, as he sat on the stool, he was forced to sit still as Duff tilted his chin up and swept his curls out of his face.

“Alright, close your eyes.”

His eyes snapped shut happily. He didn’t think he could handle staring at Duff’s face so close to his own. The blonde had done his own makeup before the rest of them, purple eyeshadow and black eyeliner and mascara making his eyes impossibly brighter and pink gloss making his lips even more distracting than usual. His hair was backcombed and wild around his head.

A brush lightly swept across his eyelids, and Duff held his chin gently in one gloved hand to keep him still as he worked. It didn’t take very long, the brush soon being replaced with an eyeliner pencil, followed by a mascara wand.

“Okay, you can open now.”

After a moment of hesitation, Slash blinked his eyes open, and he still wasn’t fully prepared to see Duff so close. He couldn’t help but glance down at his outfit again. The bassist had ripped black jeans with two studded belts around his hips, a white button up shirt with a bow tied around the collar and a fitted black vest accentuating his waist and stomach. Black leather fingerless gloves covered his hands, and rows of silver bracelets jingled lightly as he reached out to grab a tube of lipstick. 

“Almost done, promise,” Duff assured him.

Slash grinned, “No worries, man. Do your thing,” his voice sounded stronger than he felt as Duff took his chin in his hand again.

He was so busy kicking himself for the blush he was certain was raging on his face, it took him a moment to realize that Duff’s cheeks were bright pink in front of him. And sure, the bassist was carefully applying dark red lipstick, but Slash is certain he hadn’t stared this intently at any of the others’ lips. 

Maybe it was wishful thinking. Maybe Slash was about to do something incredibly stupid. But when Duff pulled his hand away, still looking at the guitarist’s lips, Slash didn’t think there was anything in the world that could convince him not to surge forward and kiss him.

Duff made a muffled noise of surprise, and Slash was prepared to ditch the show, dig a hole, and crawl into it. But then, before he could pull away again, the bassist sighed against his mouth. And he started kissing back. 

Pressing forward even more, Slash felt like his blood was singing, everything in him jittery with joy, feeling higher than dope had ever gotten him. He was practically on Duff’s lap, rested his hands on the sides of his neck while the other man wound his arms around his waist, one hand resting on the small of his back, and Slash could happily die right here.

Then there was a knock on the door.

Both of them leapt away from each other as if they had been electrocuted, Slash nearly falling off the back of the stool. A moment later, Izzy opened the door nonchalantly.

“Hey, we’re on in ten.”

Slash nodded frantically, “Yeah, of course, cool, we’ll be right there.”

“Cool,” Izzy started to leave, but just as the door was closing, he paused, “Oh, and Duff?”

The bassist straightened his back like a student at attention as he squeaked out, “Yeah?”

Staring at each other for a long moment, Izzy finally smirked slowly, “You got a little something,” he gestured at the side of his lips.

Duff immediately slapped a hand over his mouth, face red as a strangled noise of embarrassment escaped his throat. Izzy laughed good-naturedly, throwing them a quick thumbs up before closing the door behind him.

Turning to Slash, Duff let his hand fall away, and Slash couldn’t help but giggle at the dark red lipstick smeared across his lips.

Glancing in the mirror, Duff’s face got impossibly redder, lifting his hands to cover his face, “Oh my _God_.”

“Well,” Slash drawled, reaching out to take both of Duff’s hands in his own and pulling them away, “Since you’re gonna have to fix your makeup anyway…”

The kiss was short this time. It would have been longer, but neither could stop smiling.


	7. Chapter 7

The show went by in a blur.

Slash felt like he couldn’t stop smiling, running and jumping around the stage more than usual just to get some of his excess excitement out, almost rivaling Axl’s antics. The energy was infectious, and all five boys found themselves in a feedback loop that carried over to the audience. By the time the show ended, Slash could barely remember what had even happened, but that didn’t stop him from being certain that it was one of their best shows to date.

And the second they made it back to the dressing room, Slash pulled Duff down for another kiss.

Steven cheered, throwing his arms in the air, “Fucking FINALLY!” As the new couple broke apart, the drummer threw his arms around both of them, turning to Duff with a grin, “I’ve been watching this idiot pine for MONTHS.”

“Excuse you, we’ve _all_ been watching him pine," Axl chimed in.

“I kept expecting him to bring some sad, lovesick song to rehearsal,” Izzy contributed.

“I hate all of you,” Slash pouted, Duff chuckling and ducking his head to hide his red face.

They all settled around the dressing room, coming down from the adrenaline of the show, alternating between teasing Slash and excitedly discussing the show. Axl walked back and forth, waving his arms as he rattled off the potential for their upcoming gigs.

Eventually, the door opened and the terror twins burst in, grinning mischievously. “I can’t believe you guys ripped off our look!” Tommy laughed.

“We still win though cause you don’t have heels,” Nikki declared, kicking out one foot to show off the platform boots dramatically.

Tommy snickered, “Still though, that was awesome!”

“Brace yourselves,” Mick drawled as he slunk in behind them, “Incoming in three, two-”

“HEY, ADLER!” 

Vince shoved past his bandmates, pointing accusingly at the Guns drummer, “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about that bullshit two weeks ago! I’ve got a fucking bone to pick with you!”

Steven froze, staring wide-eyed as all eyes locked on the two blondes. 

Just as Vince was taking a step forward, Tommy leapt forward, standing between the two and facing his singer, “Okay, alright, as much as I love a good fight, I distinctly recall telling both of you to just talk this shit out.”

“Fine,” Vince grit out, crossing his arms, “I’ll start: What the _fuck_ , man?”

“Uh…” Steven glanced around nervously, Slash giving him a ‘go on’ motion encouragingly, “Right. Well,” he gathered himself and narrowed his eyes, “fine. I was high and drunk and you were being a dumb bitch.”

“ _Excuse me_?” Vince screeched incredulously.

Slash sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Off to a great start there, Stevie.”

“Well, it’s true!” Steven snapped, “You tried to set me up with some random chick, of course I got pissed!”

“How is that a bad thing?” Vince exclaimed, “I was trying to help you get laid!”

“And _I_ was trying to get laid by _you_!”

“Well I-... Wait, what?” Stuttering to a halt, Vince’s face was a mixture of confusion and surprise.

Steven threw his hands in the air in exasperation, “I’ve been flirting with you for months!”

“No you haven’t!”

“Yes I have!”

“Uh, Steven?” Slash raised a hand, cutting in, “Dude, I’m on your side, but you’re terrible at flirting. You literally don’t act any different than normal.”

There was a general murmur of agreement, Steven shooting a look of betrayal at his friends as Vince smirked in victory, “Hah! See!”

“Okay, well,” Steven glared, “even so, _that_ night I was totally blatant! You said you needed someone to fuck and I told you I was available!”

“Ooooh, he’s got you there, Vinnie,” Nikki commented, he and Tommy snickering together in the corner as their singer glared.

“Well,” he was starting to look flustered, “I- you-... I thought you were straight!” he blurted out.

Steven’s jaw dropped, “Are you fucking kidding me?? _Vince_ ,” he gestured up and down at the singer and yelled, “ _no one is that straight!_ ”

For a moment, the room is silent, Vince gaping as Steven’s hands curled into fists at his sides. Finally, the drummer sighed in frustration, “Fuck it, this is stupid. I’m sorry I punched you or whatever, let’s just-”

But before he could finish, Vince rushed forward and kissed him firmly. 

There is only the briefest moment of surprised hesitation before Steven is wrapping his arms around the singer to pull him even closer. 

Meanwhile, the other seven rockers in the room stared awkwardly. Eventually, Tommy started a dramatic slow clap. Unsure of what else to do, the rest of the group soon joined the applause.

“Fuck you guys,” Vince tried to look annoyed, but we was still grinning. He looked like he was going to say something else, but Steven pulled him back for another kiss.

“Wow. For a minute there I didn’t think this would end well,” Slash laughed.

“Apparently love is in the fucking air tonight,” Izzy mumbled, winking at Slash and Duff.

There was a soft thud, drawing their attention back as Vince pushed Steven up against the wall, and immediately the terror twins sprung into action, “Oh, oh boy, okay, time to go!” Nikki stated.

“Yup, trust us, Vince ain’t gonna slow down just cause he’s got an audience,” Tommy added, the two of them herding the group out of the room, managing to close the dressing room door just as the two blondes fell onto the couch together.

“I can’t decide if Vince is going to be more or less insufferable now,” Mick mused.

“Probably the same,” Nikki laughed, “But we are definitely late for the afterparty, so let’s get fucked up!”

The two bands (minus one singer and one drummer) once again made their way to Motley Crue’s apartment, and Slash found it funny how different this time was from the last time they partied together.

They were barely a block away when Nikki and Tommy honed in on Slash’s arm around Duff’s waist. Sharing quick look, the two quickly situated themselves on either side of the couple, Nikki next to Duff and Tommy next to Slash. It was a little absurd how tiny Slash felt next to the three of them.

“I can’t help but notice some PDA going on over here,” Nikki smirked.

“Don’t tell me today is couples day,” Tommy joked.

“Uh…” Duff stammered, glancing at Slash almost nervously.

Meanwhile, the guitarist puffed his chest out, grinning proudly as he tugged Duff closer, “You bet your ass it is. We beat Steven and Vince by a solid two hours,” he bragged.

“I didn’t realize it was a race,” Tommy said, “But in that case Nikki and I definitely win.”

“Damn straight,” Nikki high fived him behind Slash and Duff’s backs.

“I think the fuck not,” Axl snapped his head around, glaring, “Izzy and I left you slow burn fuckers in the fucking dust, thank you very much.”

“You tell ‘em, babe,” Izzy nodded.

“I hate being single,” Mick grumbled.

“I know Mick, I know,” Nikki patted his shoulder comfortingly, the guitarist swatting his hand away.

If Slash had been paying more attention, he might have noticed how Nikki and Tommy left him and Duff in favor of flanking Izzy and Axl, Nikki and Axl talking in hushed tones in a way that would have been suspicious. If Slash had been paying attention.

But he wasn’t. He was too busy walking on sunshine at getting to hold Duff so close, making the bassist blush as he complimented his playing at the show, kissing his cheek and the corner of his mouth every few minutes while Duff laughed and played with his curls as they walked. When he thought about it, part of him wanted to ditch the party- to just go home with Duff and have a few hours to themselves, to lay in bed and touch every inch of him, soft and slow.

As they approached the apartment, Slash opened his mouth to suggest to Duff that they split off. But before he got a chance, Tommy was sliding next to him, “Hey, Slash! I have a question,” he began cheerily, “You have a pet snake, right?”

“Um,” Slash blinked in surprise at the unexpected question, “I have a couple, yeah, but they’re back at my mom and grandma’s place.”

“Cool, cool,” Tommy nodded, throwing an arm around his shoulders, “I’m trying to convince the guys that we should get a pet, but Vince is allergic to cats, and Mick is allergic to dogs, so I was thinking a snake or something! What do you think?”

“Are you kidding me? No fucking way,” Slash laughed, “You guys can barely keep yourselves alive and you wanna add a pet? None of you should be responsible for any living thing ever. Just get a cactus or something.”

“But I can’t cuddle a cactus!” Tommy pouted.

“I mean, not with that attitude!”

“You’re unhelpful as fuck, dude.”

Slash’s laugh was cut off as Tommy guided him through the window into the apartment. He hadn’t even noticed them walking up the fire escape. Blinking, he suddenly became aware of the lack of bassist at his side.

Furrowing his brows, he glanced around, “Hey, where’d-”

“I am way too sober, all the adrenaline from the show burned through everything in my system,” Tommy interrupted, dragging Slash over to the coffee table as strangers started pouring into the apartment behind them. The drummer quickly kneeled down, pulling a bag of white power from his pocket and shaking it at Slash with a grin, “Care to join?”

Slash paused for a moment in consideration, but finally shrugged, “Sure,” he crouched down next to him. He’d just do a quick line or two and then he’d track down Duff and whisk him away.

It only took a few minutes for Tommy to cut a few lines and for each of them to snort them up, both laughing as they felt the initial rush to their system. Wiping at his nose, Slash stood and nodded at the drummer, “I’m gonna go find Duff.”

Tommy gave him a quick wave before turning to chat with some of the partiers. The apartment had filled quickly, people passing bottles and cigarettes and bags of coke, voices layering over each other and someone throwing on a record to add even more noise. Looking around the room, Slash saw no sign of the tall blonde. Glancing at the window he had come through, he was thrown back to the last time he had come to the Crue’s apartment- the last time he had lost track of Duff. 

Walking over and glancing out the window, Slash blinked with deja vu as he spied Duff and Nikki standing at the bottom of the building, smoking and talking together. This time though, it looked almost like they were arguing. Not heatedly, but Nikki had his arms crossed, a serious look on his face while Duff gestured vaguely and seemed to ramble on about something with wide eyes. 

Slash narrowed his eyes. He hated when Duff got that look of anxiety on his face, and he didn’t appreciate Nikki putting it there. He took the stairs two at a time, and by the time he hopped off the fire escape, the two bassists had become aware of his presence. Nikki sighed, and Duff shot him an almost guilty look.

“Hey guys!” Slash smiled tensely, “I was wondering where you ran off to,” he said to Duff, weaving their fingers together.

“Oh, yeah, sorry,” Duff gave a nervous laugh, “just got caught up in conversation.”

“Bassist bonding, y’know?” Nikki grinned, taking a long drag of his cigarette as he eyed Slash with a look the guitarist couldn’t identify.

“Yeah, I’m still trying to convince Mick to join me and Izzy for ‘guitarist get-togethers.”

“Oh, I definitely need to see that,” the strange look disappeared as Nikki laughed.

Leaning heavier against Duff, Slash turned to him, “I’m pretty beat from the show. I was thinking maybe we could get out of here…?” he suggested with a sly smile.

Duff looked away quickly, “Oh, yeah, sure, I-”

“Aw, don’t leave so soon!” Nikki cut in loudly, giving them exaggerated puppy eyes, “You only just got here,” sauntering around them, put his arms around them both, ducking his head between them, “At least stay for a few drinks.”

It wasn’t a question, the dark haired man already guiding both of them back to the apartment, his hands firm on their shoulders. Slash sighed, but figured it wasn’t the end of the world. After all, he wasn’t exactly going to complain about free booze. So the three of them made their way to the kitchen, where a variety of bottles had accumulated on the countertops. 

“Pick your poison!” Nikki offered cheerfully.

Duff eagerly snatched a bottle of vodka, not even bothering with a glass, instead taking a swig straight from the bottle while Nikki cheered. Slash laughed and reached for the whiskey, while Nikki quickly mixed himself a jack and coke. They drank and chatted, practically yelling to be heard over the ruckus in the apartment. 

Before long, Tommy bounded over, clearly having helped himself to more cocaine since Slash last saw him. Coming up behind Nikki and wrapping his arms around him, “Heya babe! Having fun with the lovebirds?” he giggled.

Slash barked out a laugh, “You’re calling _us_ lovebirds?” he gestured at the other couple.

“Nikki, Slash said we shouldn’t get a snake,” Tommy pouted, ignoring Slash’s comment.

His boyfriend only raised an eyebrow, “Well duh, probably because we definitely shouldn’t get a snake.”

“But baaaaabe,” the drummer whined, “I want a pet!”

“I got a dog from a blacksmith once,” Duff blurted out, three sets of eyes snapping to him in confusion. He smirked slowly, “As soon as I got home he made a bolt for the door.”

While Slash and Tommy laughed in surprise, Nikki had unfortunately just taken a sip of his drink and proceeded to immediately snort it out his nose. Sputtering and coughing, his three friends howled with laughter as he glared and pulled himself together.

“God fucking dammit, Duff!”

“You get used to it,” Slash snickered, patting his back in faux sympathy as Nikki flipped him off.

Just then, two familiar blondes crawled into the apartment. Vince had love bites running from his neck down his chest, disappearing under the low neckline of his shirt, and Steven’s hair was even wilder than usual and as they got closer Slash could see his shirt was on backwards.

“What’s up, losers? Did you miss us?” Vince exclaimed, waltzing over to the group in the kitchen with Steven beside him.

“Not really,” Nikki responded sarcastically.

“You wound me,” Vince pouted, “Where’s the love? I was nothing but supportive when you fuckers finally banged.”

“You gave us shit for _weeks_!” Tommy cried.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Tommy,” Nikki rolled his eyes, “He _still_ gives us shit.”

“We need new friends,” Sighing, Steven snaked his arm behind Vince’s back, too low for his hand to be anywhere but on the singer’s ass.

Slash fake gagged, “Oh God, I thought you both were bad individually, this is gonna be even worse.”

“At least get a room,” Duff mumbled into his vodka, looking away firmly.

Vince lit up, “That is an _excellent_ idea,” he purred, Steven grinning as he was tugged further into the house.

As they disappeared into Vince’s room, Nikki shook his head fondly, “This is going to be interesting.”

“Yup,” Slash looked over at his own boyfriend, who was steadily draining the bottle in his hand, “Although, on the subject of getting a room-”

“There you fuckers are!”

Axl strutted into the room, Izzy close behind him, “Did you see Steven and Vince go by? I can’t believe this! I wanted to see Vince get punched and instead I have to watch them get all handsy with each other! It’s a fucking outrage!” he ranted.

“Unfortunately, love won this round,” Izzy deadpanned, smoking a cigarette lazily.

Huffing, the red-head crossed his arms petulantly. Nikki shook his head before changing the subject, “So, you guys have any more shows coming up?”

Perking up, Axl started talking about GnR’s upcoming gigs, Nikki and Tommy nodding along and commenting on the various venues. Meanwhile, Izzy turned to Slash.

“Speaking of, we should try to finish a couple of our new songs for the next show.”

“Oh yeah?” Slash nodded, “That’s not a bad idea. Any in particular you wanted to work on first?”

The two guitarists discussed which of their half-completed songs to work on first. Their conversation slowly shifted until they were discussing their favorite guitar riffs, from their own songs and from other bands.

“You guys should grab Mick,” Nikki suddenly chimed in, “I still want to see a ‘guitarist get-together’.”

“Oh my gosh, I’ll take pictures!” Tommy laughed.

“I wouldn’t mind,” Izzy shrugged, “Mick’s cool.”

“You’re only saying that because you don’t get scolded by him on a daily basis.”

“I mean… yeah.”

Looking around the circle, Slash frowned. He glanced over his shoulders, but the four of them were the only ones in the kitchen, “Where’d Duff and Axl go?”

The terror twins shrugged, “I dunno,” Tommy answered unhelpfully.

Sighing, Slash took another swig of whiskey, “I’m gonna go find ‘em.”

But before he could exit the kitchen, Izzy threw his arm around his shoulders, dragging him back to the circle, “Oh come on, they’ll be fine for a few minutes,” he argued nonchalantly, “let’s at least get back to figuring out which songs we want to work on next.”

Frowning, Slash wanted to say no. He just wanted to hang out with his boyfriend- (and oh boy did that thought make him giddy every time he thought it- Duff was his _boyfriend_ )- but he figured Izzy wasn’t being unreasonable, so he nodded along. The discussion went longer than Slash expected- every time he thought they came to an agreement, Izzy would suddenly change his mind, or Tommy or Nikki would interrupt with a note, or comment, or line of coke.

Eventually though, when the whiskey bottle was nearly empty and he’d done two more lines, Slash insisted on finding Duff. He weaved his way out of the kitchen, the alcohol making him a bit unsteady. Luckily, the tall blonde was easy to find. He was sitting on the couch, Vodka still in hand ( _it looked more full than it had been before- was that a new bottle?_ ) and Axl sitting beside him, the singer facing him as he gestured wildly, clearly ranting about something or other.

Duff brows were slightly furrowed, like he was confused, and Slash couldn’t help but smile fondly. He was familiar with the way Axl could sometimes just talk and talk, and it was almost cute seeing Duff try to comprehend whatever passionate speech he was caught up in.

He wasted no time making his way over, sitting on the arm of the couch to lean over Duff and place a kiss on the crown of his head, giggling as the bassist jumped, “Hey babe,” he sang, “I missed you!”

Across from him, Axl huffed, narrowing his eyes at having been interrupted, “Um, rude? We were clearly talking.”

Slash glared right back, resting his chin on Duff’s head and letting his arms drape over his shoulders, “Hey, he’s _my_ boyfriend, so I get to call dibs.”

Before the red-head could argue, they were both cut off as their blonde drummer reappeared, face flushed and smiling contently, “Hey guys!" he drawled, "I am having the _best_ night. You would not be _lieve_ the things Vince can do with his tongue-”

“No no no!” Slash cried frantically reeling back and slapping his hands over his ears, “lalalalala I can’t hear you!”

“Oh come on!” Steven laughed, “We’ve described good fucks to each other before!”

“Yeah, but this is _Vince_ ,” Slash insisted with a shudder, “This is someone I have to look in the eye on a regular basis! Please, as your best friend, I am begging you to spare me the details just this once.”

The drummer sighed dramatically, “Oh, fine. But only because I fucking love you.”

“Thank you.”

“What about you, Tommy? Can you handle the dirty details? Cause I seriously need to get this out before I’m ready for round three.”

“Wait, what?” Slash snapped his head to the side, nearly losing his balance as he blinked drunkenly. The blonde bassist had been replaced by the Motley Crue drummer. Axl sat beside him, pointedly avoiding the guitarist’s gaze, although he couldn’t quite hide a cocky smirk.

Tommy shrugged, “Honestly, I’ve walked in on Vince enough that nothing can scar me anymore. Spill.”

Growling in frustration, Slash lurched to his feet, Steven swiftly taking his seat as he began to wax poetic about Vince’s bedroom skills. Stumbling away, Slash didn’t understand what was happening. Because _something_ was happening. There was no other explanation for how Duff kept being swept away from him every time he turned his head. He didn’t even care about going home anymore- he just wanted to spend time with his boyfriend. It would be enough to just stand next to him and hold his hand for more than two minutes, maybe press a few kisses into his skin. He’d waited so long to get to this point. He just wanted to savor it.

Pressing through the crowd of people, he found Duff in a corner, leaning heavily against the wall with an empty vodka bottle held loosely at his side. Nikki was next to him, smoking a cigarette while Izzy stood in front of them and spoke quietly.

“Duff!” Slash cried excitedly. The three boys turned to look at him, Duff attempting to stand up straighter but only managing to pitch forward. Luckily, Izzy and Nikki quickly steadied him, Slash hurrying over and slinging the bassist’s arm over his shoulder to hold him up.

“H-hey, Slash,” Duff smiled, his eyes slightly glassy from the alcohol. He pressed himself closer to him, burying his face in messy curls with a sigh.

Despite his previous frustration, Slash couldn’t help but smile, bringing his free hand up to play with the ribbon around his neck, “Hey,” he drawled, “I keep losing you. Or, you keep getting stolen,” he raised an eyebrow at the two rockers in front of him. They both stared back evenly.

But Duff shuddered in his arms, reaching to clench his fingers in the front of Slash’s shirt, “‘m sorry,” he whispered into his hair.

He almost missed the way Izzy and Nikki’s eyes seemed to darken, but he didn’t have the energy to think about it, instead focusing on pulling Duff closer, “It’s fine, you’re fine, ‘m just messing,” he soothed.

There was a nod against the top of his head, and the blonde seemed to sink a little further against him. Behind his back, Slash heard a soft thud, turning his head to see that the empty bottle had slipped from Duff’s fingers. Rubbing his back softly, Slash decided that this time, it really was time to go.

“I think you and I are gonna head home now,” he declared, “I’m half wasted and you’re half past wasted.”

Duff laughed lightly, nodding in agreement, “Yeah, kay.”

“Thanks for the booze and shit,” Slash nodded at Nikki, turning and giving Izzy a quick wave, “I’ll see you guys at home.”

He barely processed their responses, if there were any, too busy keeping himself and the tall blonde upright as they left the apartment. The fire escape was a challenge, but both of them were laughing by the time they finally reached the bottom. Normally the walk between their apartment and Motley Crue’s wasn’t too long, but with both of them weaving and tripping over their own feet, the journey took twice as long.

Slash didn’t mind though. He welcomed any time spent with Duff- always had, but even more so now. Whenever Duff stumbled against him, he couldn’t resist pressing his lips to the side of his neck, feeling the bassist sigh against him as he mouthed at his collar bone. When they finally reached the Hell House, Slash ignored his keys in favor of gently pushing Duff against the door to press their lips together, kissing lazily and stroking his hand against the small of his back while Duff tangled his fingers in his hair.

Eventually, the chill of the night motivated them to pull away and unlock the door, making their way inside. They giggled as they fumbled in the dark towards their room. Slash didn’t bother turning the lights on, and after the briefest flash of hesitation, guided both of them towards his own bed.

 _What a strange day_ , Slash thought to himself. It had gone so fast but felt so long, and even though the two of them had shared a bed the night before, tonight was different. Because, despite all of his doubts and shyness, Slash and Duff were _together_ now. He wondered if the giddiness would ever die down.

As he maneuvered Duff onto the bed though, he couldn’t ignore the way the bassist fell back onto the mattress like dead weight, limbs sprawled out and eyes fluttering open and closed, and Slash still tasted vodka on his lips.

So, smiling softly, he crawled on the bed and gently laid his body on top of Duff’s, resting his head against his chest and sighing contently.

“Mmmm… Slash?” Duff muttered, turning his head to try to look at the guitarist, “I-... ‘re you…”

Slash hushed him, wrapping his arms around his waist and rolling them onto their sides, tucking his head beneath Duff’s chin, “Long day,” he slurred with a smile, “Let’s just sleep now. I’ll take you on a date tomorrow,” he promised.

“...Oh,” Duff let out a breath, “Okay,” he laughed a little, bringing a hand up to smooth back Slash’s wild curls.

Pressing one last kiss to the bassist’s shoulder, Slash held Duff tighter, smiling even as the whiskey pulled him towards sleep.

He drifted off with Duff’s steady heartbeat under his ear.


	8. Chapter 8

The next three weeks were… interesting.

Don’t get him wrong, Slash was over the moon. He no longer had to restrain himself around Duff, was finally allowed to run his hands through his hair and hold him and kiss him and lace their fingers together anytime he was in arms reach. It had been years since his last serious relationship, but he knows it didn’t feel like this.

On top of that, Guns N’ Roses was making waves again. With each show they played the crowds seemed to get bigger and wilder, and they were starting to snag better dates and times at the bigger venues. They were starting to actually make a decent amount of money from their shows. At night, as he fell asleep with Duff in his arms, he felt like everything was falling into place.

But…

At the same time, Slash couldn’t help but feel a little lost. Because something didn’t feel right. 

Duff seemed happy, smiling into their kisses and playing with Slash’s curls and bursting with energy on stage. But he was also drinking even more than usual- bottle always in reach, almost never anywhere near sober- and he still jolted awake from nightmares, and there always seemed to be an apology on his lips.

And then there was the other thing…

“ _You guys haven’t fucked yet??_ ” Steven gaped, slamming his beer down loudly on the table.

Slash groaned, putting his head in his hands. He and Steven had the house to themselves that night, and had decided that they were overdue for a hangout. As they drank and smoked and laughed, sitting next to each other on their beat up couch, the conversation inevitably veered towards their love lives, the two friends rambling about their boys happily. That is, until Steven joked about his and Vince’s bedroom activities, and then asked about Duff and Slash with a wiggle of his eyebrows, and Slash could only stutter out a “well, actually-”

Steven shook his head in disbelief, “ _How?_ It’s been weeks, and you’ve been wanting to climb that boy like a tree since day one.”

“I know, I know,” Slash sighed, “It’s… hard to explain.”

“Try.”

Looking over at the drummer, Slash saw that his friend actually had a look of concern on his face, frowning thoughtfully. It was easy to forget sometimes that Steven was more than just the sunshine goofball he appeared. He and Slash had been best friends since their childhood, and if there was anyone Slash could talk to about this, it was him.

So, taking another swig of his beer, Slash started talking, “It’s like… most of the time, we’re fine, right? Like, other than getting kinda blushy, he doesn’t mind PDA or anything that much. But when we’re alone, he just… doesn’t seem that into it, I guess?” He sighed, “And that’s not even getting into the fact that he’s almost always wasted by the time I get him alone, and that just makes me feel… gross, y’know?”

“Yeah, I get that,” Steven nodded sympathetically.

“Uuuuuuugh,” Slash dropped his head onto the coffee table in front of them, “Maybe he doesn’t really like me. Or thinks I’m unattractive. Oh my God, Steven, Duff thinks I’m ugly-”

“Oh, shut up you idiot,” Steven rolled his eyes, even as he reached out to pat Slash on the back, “Maybe he’s a virgin or something,” he shrugged.

Slash sat up, frowning in consideration, “Huh. I hadn’t thought about that.”

“Yeah, just because we had a promiscuous youth doesn’t mean he did.”

“But he’s had a boyfriend before,” Slash pointed out.

“Yeah, but wasn’t he an asshole?” Steven argued, “Maybe they never got to that point. Duff definitely likes you a lot, but he’s also a nervous fucking dude, so, y’know,” he shrugged.

“That’s… actually a good point,” blinking in surprise, Slash leaned back as he thought more about it.

Meanwhile, Steven grinned, “See? You just needed some wisdom from your much smarter friend.”

“Oh fuck off,” Slash laughed. But he did feel better. After all, he didn’t mind taking things slow (what’s a few more weeks of long showers? He’d live), he had just been feeling insecure. With this new theory in mind, he felt like he could relax a little.

For that reason, he was in especially high spirits when he pulled Duff against his chest the next morning, “Hey, you have today off, right?” The bassist hummed and nodded, so Slash grinned, “Then we’re definitely due for a date. We need some time away from all the other couples,” he joked. Not that he didn’t love his friends, but Axl and Nikki especially always seemed to get a kick out of fucking with them. (Or rather, fucking with _him_.)

Duff grinned, “Sounds good to me,” he kissed Slash lazily, “What did you have in mind?”

Up until now, their dates were pretty standard- usually bar hopping, grabbing cheap food, seeing a movie or a show or something like that. “Not that I don’t love our usual outings,” Slash drawled, “but let’s do something different.”

“Like what?”

“Uuuuh,” Slash blinked at the ceiling, “I have no idea,” he smiled as Duff laughed. He tried to think of something, Duff burying his face in the crook of Slash’s neck, seemingly unconcerned with Slash’s dilemma. He poked at the blonde’s shoulder, “You have any ideas?”

The only response was silence, which Slash had learned meant that Duff _definitely_ had an idea, he just didn’t want to say it. Sitting up swiftly, Duff rolled to the side with a soft “oof”, allowing Slash to look down at him with a grin.

“What do you want to do?”

Blushing, Duff scoffed, “I don’t know, whatever you want to-”

“No, no, no,” Slash interrupted, “You have an idea, I know it. Come on, pleeeease?” he whined.

Duff bit his lip lightly, hesitating for a minute before finally admitting, “It’s supposed to be nice today, and… I’ve always wanted to go up to the Hollywood sign,” he was quick to add on, “But seriously, it’s just a thought, we don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

While that was certainly not the suggestion Slash had expected, it only made him grin wider, “No way, let’s do it!” He hopped out of bed enthusiastically, “Y’know, I’ve lived in Hollywood most of my life and I’ve never been up there.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I guess when you live in a place long enough you kind of forget to do the touristy stuff.”

Sitting up, Duff stared down at his lap, “Oh, yeah. I mean, it’s probably stupid, I just-”

“No, no!” Slash cut in, “I meant that that’s why it’s a cool idea,” he clarified.

He hated that after all this time, Duff still looked surprised when Slash showed any sort of approval towards him. He hated it, and he didn’t understand it, and he didn’t know how to ask about it. As such, he was a little relieved when Duff quickly shook off the surprise and gave him a sly grin.

“Not to mention I doubt there will be anyone around to bust us if we have a couple open containers.”

“I like the way you think,” Slash laughed.

Before long, they were both pulling on some boots and shoving a variety of bottles and a few joints into a beat up backpack. It wasn’t exactly early by the time they left, nearing noon, but still early enough that the rest of their housemates were still confined to their own rooms, allowing them for a clean getaway.

Duff was right that it was a nice day outside. The sun was shining, but there was a cool autumn breeze, and the odd hour on a weekday meant the bus was practically empty when they hopped on. That didn’t stop them from sitting in the very back, stretching their legs out across multiple seats and talking shit about random people they would see on the sidewalk and occasionally sneaking sips from a bottle of whiskey.

Needless to say, the bus driver was happy to see them exit when they reached their stop. When they reached the start of the trail through Griffith Park, Duff turned to Slash with a grin.

“We should think of a drinking game.”

Slash snorted, “What, like, take a shot every time we see a lizard or some shit?”

“You would go straight for lizards,” Duff laughed, elbowing him playfully.

“Alright then,” Slash continued, “One shot every time we see a lizard, but THREE shots if I can catch one,” he grinned deviously.

Duff hummed in consideration, “...Fine. BUT, you can’t take it home with you,” he bargained, giggling when Slash whined.

“Where’s the fun in that? Tell me you wouldn’t kill to put a lizard in Axl and Izzy’s bed.”

“I think they would kill _you_.”

“Hm, it’d be worth it though.”

Starting their trek, they were happy to find that the off-season left the trail open and empty, and wasted no time in passing a joint back and forth as they expanded the rules of their drinking game. Pointing at random things mostly as an excuse to take a swig from the bottles held in their hands.

“Shot every time you see a broken bottle!”

“Shot every time a plane goes by!”

“Everytime you hear a crow!”

“Everytime you see a rock with graffiti!”

“Everytime-”

“LIZARD!”

Duff jumped at Slash’s exclamation, the guitarist leaping forward drunkenly and diving to the ground in a clumsy attempt to catch the small reptile that had crossed their path. The whiskey left him uncoordinated though, and he landed roughly on the ground, the lizard scurrying away into the brush.

Laughing heartily, Duff nearly dropped his vodka as he staggered forward, tugging at Slash’s arm to help him back to his feet, “I thought you were good with reptiles?” he teased.

“Yeah, well, it’s an inverse correlation to my sobriety,” he replied sheepishly, dusting off his clothes and picking up his whiskey bottle from the ground where it had fallen. Luckily only a little had spilled, the bottle being half empty anyway, so he wiped the dirt from the top and declared it good enough.

As they continued their journey, Slash reached out to lace their fingers together, swaying their arms between them as they continued up and up the hillside, Duff ducking his head with a shy smile. They took their time, the alcohol and weed keeping their pace leisurely as they laughed and giggled at practically everything, stumbling when they tried to walk as Slash pulled Duff closer, wrapping an arm around his waist and nearly tangling their legs together mid step.

Before they knew it, they were standing at the end of the trail, looking down at the Hollywood sign and the expanse of the city below them.

“Wow…”

The view was gorgeous, but Slash only looked for a moment, too distracted by Duff’s wide eyes, awe and alcohol blending as he smiled excitedly down at the landscape. Tugging the bassist’s hand, they carefully made their way through the brush down the hill. Once they were in the shade of the ‘H’, they slid to sit on the ground, and Slash wasted no time pulling Duff into a kiss, feeling like he hadn’t gotten nearly enough of them today. Duff smiled against his mouth, leaning against the sign behind them as Slash pressed against him.

They lazily exchanged whiskey and vodka kisses, hidden in their own little world behind their city’s landmark. Eventually they broke away when Slash’s stomach growled loudly, Duff laughing as Slash ducked his head in embarrassment. Pulling a handful of granola bars from their backpack, they ate quietly, enjoying the companionable silence while Slash rested his head against Duff’s shoulder.

Eventually, they felt rested enough to start making their way back down, abandoning their games in favor of simply drinking and smoking leisurely while Slash rambled about all the parties he’d been to with his parents across the freeway on Mulholland Drive. By the time they were getting onto the bus again, the sun was beginning to set, and while they were both tired and half drunk-half high, they agreed that junk food was in order.

Hopping off at a stop near a diner they both liked, Slash grabbed Duff’s hand again, grinning happily as they chatted. The blonde was smiling easily, his body relaxed, and while he wasn’t sober, he wasn’t as wasted as he had been the past few weeks. Maybe Slash had been overthinking it, worrying about nothing. Duff seemed fine now. Maybe he had just been overreacting like Steven said.

But then, just feet away from the diner, someone approached the two musicians. And Duff sucked in a breath, freezing in place as a voice called out behind them.

“Michael?”


	9. Chapter 9

Slash doesn’t know what he’s expecting when he whips around to face the source of the voice, but it certainly isn’t a tall young man who looks inexplicably, _startlingly_ familiar. And he definitely doesn’t expect the man to break into a wide, relieved grin and rush forward to pull Duff into a bear hug.

Duff is still frozen, eyes wide and lost. Slash starts to step forward, unsure if he should intervene or not, when Duff lets out a shuddering exhale, eyes closing as he slowly lifts his hands to return the hug. They stay that way for a minute before the other man finally pulls away, hands on Duff’s shoulders as he looks him over with concerned eyes. He is almost as tall as Duff, his dark brown hair short and clean cut, and he looks a few years older than the two rockers. But standing next to each other, it’s impossible not to see the stark similarities in their features.

“Matt, I…” Duff trails off, words getting caught in his throat.

“God, Mikey it is so good to see you,” The other man- Matt- smiles warmly, “We’ve all been worried sick, you haven’t called any of us in forever!”

“I-... I’m sorry, I-”

“Um…?”

The two men jerked their heads over to Slash, the guitarist unable to keep quiet anymore, too confused and curious by whatever he was witnessing.

“O-oh, Sorry, um…” Duff was looking more than a little overwhelmed as he looked between the two of them, “Uh, Matt, this is Slash, my bandmate. Slash, this is my brother.”

Slash felt his eyebrows shoot towards his hairline. He didn’t miss that he was just Duff’s ‘bandmate’, but he figured maybe Duff wasn’t out to his family. Which, it was the last part that really startled him.

“Hey,” he held out his hand, smiling politely as Matt shook it, “Nice to meet ya.”

“You too,” he smiled back.

Looking between the two of them, still started by how similar yet different Matt and Duff looked, he commented, “I didn’t know Duff had a brother.”

Apparently that was the wrong thing to say. Duff’s whole body tensed, ducking his head and looking to the side, face full of shame. Meanwhile, Matt’s face dropped, suddenly looking unbearably sad as he let out a soft, “Oh”. There was a long stretch of silence, the three of them standing awkwardly through the discomfort. Finally, Matt recovered enough to give a small smile, reaching out to put a hand on Duff’s shoulder.

“Well… I wish I could stay longer, but I’ve got a night class to get to, so…” he pulled Duff into another hug, gentler this time.. When he pulled back, he ruffled the blonde hair affectionately, “But I'm so glad I ran into you. Give me a call, yeah? We need to catch up,” his eyes grew sad again, and he added softly, “And call mom. She’s really worried.”

“Yeah, I… I will,” Duff smiled shakily. Waving at the two of them, Matt continued on his way, leaving Duff and Slash to stand on the sidewalk uncertainly. Clearing his throat nervously, Duff starts to walk again, “Well, uh, let’s go-”

But Slash grabs his hand and tugs him to a stop, “Why didn’t you tell me you have a brother?”

Shrugging, Duff avoided his gaze, “I dunno, it never came up-”

“Never came up?” Slash snapped, “Yes it fucking has!”

He doesn’t mean to yell, earning a few looks from passerbys, and he shifts so they’re a little less in the way. But he can’t help it- something about the unexpected interaction left the guitarist feeling angry. And hurt.

Lowering his voice, he continues, “It _has_ come up. I’ve told you about my brother, I’ve asked about Seattle, and your family, and growing up, and all sorts of shit. But you _never_ tell me anything!” 

Duff’s eyes dart back and forth, as though looking for an answer, or an escape, “I, I’m sorry, I just…” he trails off, and Slash feels his jaw tense.

“I tell you _everything_ ,” he says, “From the very beginning, I’ve always told you everything.” He lets go of Duff’s hand, running his hands over his face in frustration as he grits out, “Why is everything a fucking _secret_ with you?”

Looking up, he sees the bassist looking at the ground, tense and still. “I’m sorry,” he says softly.

But Slash shakes his head. He’s so tired of all the guesswork. “I’m going home,” he mumbles, walking around Duff. He needs to cool off, and he figures the walk home will give him a chance to let the frustration and hurt fade a bit.

Duff takes a hesitant step to follow, “Slash-”

“I’ll see you at home.”

The guitarist’s words are sharp and firm, leaving no room for argument, and Duff immediately stills. Slash forces himself not to turn around, leaving the other man standing alone on the sidewalk, walking away quickly and trying to ignore the feeling of eyes on his back.


	10. Chapter 10

The second Slash fell face-first onto his bed, he felt his stomach twist with regret. 

Walking home had indeed helped him calm down, but now he felt guilt weigh heavy on him. He shouldn’t have left Duff there- he should have stayed and tried to talk things through right then. Sighing, he rolled over onto his back to stare at the ceiling. 

It was just so _frustrating_. He wanted to be someone Duff could talk to- someone who could comfort him and support him. But the blonde was so tight-lipped and dodgy. They were dating, but he still wouldn’t let Slash in. What did that say about their relationship? 

Closing his eyes, he figured there was nothing for it but to wait for Duff to get home so they could work it out. He tried to reassure himself; after all, every couple fights sometimes, and they hadn’t been dating _that_ long. He’d apologize when Duff returned, they’d talk things over, kiss and make up and all that. Everything would be fine. He kept telling himself that- Everything would be fine.

Unfortunately, it became a lot harder to believe that the longer the night went on. It had been dark out by the time Slash arrived home, and as he waited one hour became two, then four, and then he was pacing his room wildly because the sky was beginning to lighten outside and Duff still hadn’t returned. His mind was racing wildly- he’d left Duff _alone_ what if something happened to him? What if he was hurt somewhere? Or maybe Slash had screwed up so badly that Duff had just decided he wasn’t coming back and now Slash would never see him again. 

He heard the soft sound of the front door opening and immediately lunged forward, throwing the bedroom door open violently, “DUFF!”

But it was a different blonde standing in the doorway. Steven jumped in surprise, “Jesus fuck, what the Hell, Slash?”

Slash very nearly burst into tears. “Fuck…” he choked out. He stumbled back into his room to sit heavily on his bed, putting his head in his hands.

The bed dipped next to him, Steven rubbing his back with worried eyes, “Hey, dude, what’s going on?”

“Duff and I got in a fight and I stormed off and he hasn’t come home and something terrible probably happened or he’s not coming back or-”

“Okay, okay, just breath man,” Steven cut off his rambling. He waited until Slash seemed a little more put together before continuing, “Look, I know it sucks, but fights happen. Duff’s fine, he probably just crashed somewhere to get some space or something.” Slash nodded slowly, thinking about his words, and the drummer tacked on, “Besides, he’ll definitely come back for the show tonight. Duff’s not the type to skip out on that just ‘cause of a lover’s quarrel.”

_That_ had Slash snapping his head up, “Oh shit,” he murmured, “I completely forgot about that.”

Steven raised an eyebrow, “We spent half the week putting up fliers. We’re actually the headliners for once. How the fuck did you forget?” He squinted at the guitarist, “Have you slept at _all_ today?” When silence was the only answer, he rolled his eyes, “Jesus, dude, you need to get some sleep.”

“I was worried!”

“I know, I know,” Steven held his hands up, “but seriously. Go to bed, worst case scenario you’ll see Duff tonight and you can work whatever happened out then, okay?” Slash nodded reluctantly, and Steven shook his head as he stood, “I don’t like being the level-headed one. You’re fucking with our dynamic, man.” Slash threw a pillow at him as he ran out, chuckling.

Sighing, Slash flopped back onto his bed. In all honesty, he didn’t want to sleep. It felt like some sort of betrayal, to sleep before he was absolutely certain Duff was okay. But he’d never stayed up this long without cocaine or something. He was so tired, he didn’t really have much choice- he settled back against the pillows and was out within minutes.

~~~~~~~~~

When Slash woke up, the sun was beginning to set, the light through the window softer and cooler. He blinked a couple times, wondering what had woken him. That was when he heard the ‘click’ of the bedroom door closing. 

He jumped out of bed so fast he nearly fell over, “DUFF!”

It really was him this time, the tall blonde standing nervously in front of the door, looking tired and smelling like booze but safe and unharmed. Slash couldn’t help himself- he ran forward and practically tackled the bassist in a tight hug. Duff flinched, sucking in a sharp breath, but Slash just held him tighter as he began to ramble.

“Duff, babe, fuck, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have left, I should have stayed and talked and I’m sorry I was so fucking worried.”

As he talks, Duff hesitantly hugs him back, letting one hand tangle in his curls, “It- it’s okay. It was my fault, I-”

Slash shook his head, pulling away so he could look up at him, “I was upset, but I still shouldn’t have stormed off.” Duff looked unconvinced, so Slash tugged him over so they could sit side by side on his bed. They sat together in silence for a few minutes, Slash looking at Duff and Duff looking at the floor, both of them trying to figure out what to say. Clearing his throat, Slash looked down at his hands and tried to start.

“Look, Duff, I-”

“I have seven siblings,” Duff blurted out.

Slash’s head snapped over to look at him, gaping slightly, “ _Seven_?”

The bassist smirked, a breath of laughter escaping at Slash’s shocked tone, staring down at the sheets as he continued, “Yup. Three older sisters and four older brothers.”

“Oh my God,” Slash giggled despite himself, “Wait, hold on. You’re telling me you have seven siblings _and_ you’re the baby?”

Duff nodded, glancing at him out of the corner of his eye with a small smile, “Yup,” he picked at his jeans absent-mindedly, “My parents split when I was nine, and my dad wasn’t really in the picture after that, so it was just my mom dealing with, like, way too many kids.”

Slash hesitated for a moment before asking gently, “Do you… not get along with her?” 

To his surprise, Duff laughed, although there was no humor in the sound, “God, it’d be easier if we didn’t get along. My mom was like my best friend,” he says, voice heavy with sadness.

Frowning, Slash’s voice was confused, “Then why…?”

There is a long pause as the bassist considers his words, “It’s exhausting,” he said slowly, “to always be a disappointment.” 

That had the guitarist blinking in surprise, “What do you mean?”

He could see Duff’s jaw tense, his hands fisting the sheets beneath him as he explained, “My mom has eight kids, but her marriage didn’t start falling apart until she had me, and I was the one who caught my dad cheating, I was the only one who got diagnosed with a panic disorder, the only one who always came home fucked up by bullies, and I was always getting into trouble, and I dropped out of high school, and-”

His voice grew louder and faster as he spoke, everything pouring out like a dam had been broken. Slash opened his mouth to say something, but Duff kept going, “And I came to LA because I wanted to prove I wasn’t so fucking weak, but instead I just-” his teeth clicked shut in frustration, and he ran his hand through his hair desperately.

Slash put a gentle hand on his back, rubbing up and down soothingly, trying to think of what to say in the face of everything Duff had confessed, “Hey,” he spoke softly, leaning forward to try to catch his eye, “None of that makes you a weak. And you saw how Matt was yesterday- I doubt anyone in your family thinks of you as a disappointment.”

But Duff shook his head slowly. Because he hadn’t confessed everything yet. “I still haven’t told them… about what happened with Scott,” he whispered.

Slash frowned, “Who’s Scott?”

Duff bit his lip nervously, before looking up at him, “My ex.”

And oh yes, Slash remembered him, though if he was honest he tried not to think about him. Duff looked down again, “My family… they know I was dating a guy, and they know we broke up, but they don’t know… what happened.”

Something cold and heavy seeps into Slash’s heart. He doesn’t want to ask. But he does.

“What happened?”

He can see Duff bracing himself as he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, “Okay, so… it really was my fault,” he insists, just like always, “We lived on the third floor of this super shitty apartment complex. One of the windows was all cracked cause someone threw a rock or something at it. And we came home one night and he was pissed at me cause he thought I’d been flirting with someone else. Which I wasn’t!” He looks at Slash with wide eyes, seemingly desperate for the guitarist to believe him, “I swear, I just-... I don’t know, maybe I-...” he scrubbed a hand over his face roughly, grinding his teeth together, “The point is, he was mad, and I didn’t mean to yell at him, I was just trying to get him to listen, but then… I mean, I don’t think he realized I was in front of the broken window when he shoved me.”

Slash sucks in a breath, feeling his heart stop in his chest. Because _no_. He stares at Duff, reminding himself that he’s here, and he’s okay, but it only helps a little because all this time he convinced himself that Duff’s ex was just ‘an asshole’ and this is so much worse.

Duff shrugs, “I was in the hospital for a little bit. Concussion, couple broken ribs, some cuts from the glass. It actually wasn’t as bad as it could have been because I landed on the lid of a dumpster. Which was kind of ironic actually ‘cause Scott used to call me trash all the time,” he smiles darkly, glancing over at Slash as if the other man could actually find any sort of humor in anything he’s said.

“ _Fuck_ , Duff…” Slash’s voice cracks, and Duff’s eyes widen.

“Hey, it’s fine, really-”

“It is _not_ fine!” he says firmly. And he can’t stop thinking of all the things he’s ignored since he met Duff- the way he would flinch if he was touched suddenly or someone moved too fast, always putting himself down, always surprised when Slash was kind.

Slash swallowed thickly, “He did that a lot, didn’t he.”

“I mean,” Duff looked away again, “he only ever pushed me out a window once-”

“ _Duff_ ,” Slash reaches over, lacing their fingers together, “You know what I mean.”

There is a pause, before Duff’s hand tightens around his, “I pissed him off a lot.”

Silence stretches, and Slash wants so badly to make this better, but he doesn’t know how. He holds Duff’s hand and wracks his brain for something, anything to sooth the man beside him.

But before he gets a chance, Duff takes a deep breath and turns to face him, “I know it’s selfish,” he says softly, “but the reason I never wanted to tell you these things is…” he falters, unable to keep from looking away as he swallows, “I really, really like you,” he admits, looking back up into Slash’s eyes sadly, “and I don’t want you to see what he did.”

Slash feels his eyes widen, bringing one hand up slowly to cup the bassist’s cheek, “Duff…”

Before he can say anything else though, there is a loud banging on the door, both of them jumping in surprise as Axl’s voice called out.

“Hey lovebirds! We gotta get going, it’s showtime!”

Cursing under his breath, Slash responded, “Yeah, yeah, we’ll be right there!” He could hear Axl muttering as he walked away from the door. Turning back to Duff, the blonde’s face was carefully neutral, looking at Slash expectantly.

“I’m sorry,” Slash said sincerely, reaching up to push a strand of blonde hair behind the other’s ear, “Let’s just make it through the show, and then I promise we’ll talk more tonight, okay?”

Duff nodded, giving a shaky smile, “Yeah, of course.”

Moving slowly, Slash leaned in. When Duff didn’t pull away, he pressed their lips together in a gentle kiss, and he felt Duff relax just slightly. When he pulled back, he let his forehead rest against the bassist’s, giving him a soft smile, “Thank you for telling me.” Keeping their hands joined, the two made their way out of the room. 

And for the first time, Slash felt impatient for the show to be over.


	11. Chapter 11

It felt like the longest show they’d ever done.

Steven shot Slash a concerned look on the ride to the venue as his leg bounced uncontrollably. Duff stared out the window, chewing on his fingers while Axl ranted in the front seat about their set list in an attempt to ease some of the tension but not really succeeding. By some miracle the show still managed to go well. Duff was obviously already tipsy when they arrived from whatever he’d been drinking before he got home, and they all shared looks of concern when he actually brought a drink with him onstage. Still, they were able to get lost in the music and performance enough to keep themselves together and wow the audience.

They all heaved a sigh of relief when their set ended with no mishaps, and underneath Slash’s tension and worry, he felt a swell of pride at how the band’s success was steadily growing. Still, he was impatient to whisk Duff away. They needed more time to work through everything Duff had told him.

In the dressing room, Axl, Izzy, and Steven chatted easily about the show and possibly tracking down the venue owner to snag some more dates while Slash hurried to put his guitar away so he and Duff could leave. Right as he was about to turn to the bassist, a knock on the door had Slash huffing in frustration. Before any of them could answer it though, the members of Motley Crue burst in, Vince in front as he sauntered over to Steven.

“Heya babe,” he grinned, sliding an arm around the drummer’s waist, “Great show!”

“Thanks!” Steven smiled brightly. 

Slash felt like he was gonna crawl out of his skin, but he was once more interrupted before he could escape with Duff, this time by Tommy. The Crue drummer turned towards the blonde and spoke casually as he jerked his thumb towards the door, “Hey, Duff, some dude, said he was a friend of yours, was looking for you out in the hallway.”

Frowning, Duff furrowed his brows in confusion, “Oh, uh, thanks.” 

Sighing, Slash couldn’t help but find it fitting that Duff would have some other kind of reunion this weekend. Sending him a tired shrug, Duff stepped over to the door, opening it to lean out into the hallway.

He had barely stuck his head out before he was reeling back, slamming the door loudly before backing away from it rapidly. 

“Duff?” Slash was by his side in an instant, the rest of the room immediately on high alert as the bassist slapped a hand over his mouth.

“Fuck,” he whispered through his fingers, eyes clenched shut.

“What’s going on?” Nikki looked between Duff and the door suspiciously, eyes narrowed.

A humorless laugh, high pitched and hysterical escaped from the tall blonde. He took a deep breath, and then his eyes flickered to Slash, his voice heavy with resignation, “It’s my ex. My ex is out there.”

For a moment, everything feels frozen. Like time has stopped as his head echoes back everything Duff had said that evening, replaying the night in the alley when he found out about his ex the first time, going through a slideshow of every flinch and flash of fear he’s ever seen cross Duff’s face.

Then everything tinges red.

“ _What??_ ” Multiple voices shout, the entire room suddenly buzzing with energy. Somewhere in the back of Slash’s mind he finds it odd that everyone seems to know that Duff’s ex is bad news, but he can barely form coherent thoughts at the moment, head snapping to look at the door to the dressing room. 

Little things filter through- Izzy’s soft voice, “ _Axl, no-_ ”, Steven guiding Duff to sit on the couch in the corner, Vince and Mick standing awkwardly to the side while still trying to be supportive.

“Maybe I should go talk to him,” Duff mutters, no emotion, just exhaustion, “I should-”

“Absolutely _not!_ ” Axl snaps, as Nikki storms over to the other bassist’s side, kneeling next to him and whispering furiously. 

Slash isn’t sure what he says though. Because by that point he’s throwing the door open and bursting into the hallway, feeling fury in his veins and wanting nothing more than to feel that fucking bastard bleed under his hands. He can hear the music of the venue pulsing softly down the long hallway to where it opens up into the main floor. And there, leaning against the wall at the end of the hallway, is the same man Slash remembers from all those weeks ago, arms crossed and facing away from him.

Stalking away from the dressing room, Slash is ready to absolutely destroy this man- destroy him like he tried to destroy Duff. But he’s barely gotten three steps when a firm hand wraps around his bicep and jerks him back harshly.

“ _Slash,_ ” Izzy’s voice is stern. Tommy stands a few steps behind him, eyes wide and jaw clenching as he watches the two guitarists carefully.

He tries to pull his arm back, but Izzy holds tight, and Slash finds himself snarling, “Get the fuck off me, Izzy!”

“No,” Izzy whole body is coiled tight like a spring, “Slash, listen to me-”

“You don’t know what he did!” Slash snaps, teeth bared as he gestures violently towards the club, “That fucking bastard- Just fucking let me go! You don’t understand-!”

“ _Yes I fucking do!_ ”

Slash feels his teeth click shut. He’s never heard Izzy’s voice so cold, or seen his eyes so dark. He feels his fingers tighten around Slash’s arm, but he barely notices it, too focused on the way Izzy’s swallows thickly, pushing back the storm of emotions in his stomach. When he speaks again, his voice is softer. Gentler.

“I do. I _get it_ , Slash.”

“We both do,” Tommy admits, stepping forward to stand next to them.

Looking back and forth between them, Slash thinks about the bits and pieces he knows about Axl’s past, about all the seemingly small things that set him off as if he’d been attacked, the way he was always ready to defend himself. Duff's soft voice saying _Axl has nightmares too_. 

He thinks about Nikki’s simmering rage, the way he would light himself on fire and greet pain like an old friend, the long, deep scar on his forearm that he never talks about.

And he thinks of Izzy and Tommy, pillars and bodyguards and safety and comfort and a fierce, hair-trigger protectiveness that Slash had always felt was over the top. Until now.

“I get wanting to fucking tear apart the person who hurt the guy you love,” Tommy said soothingly, “And you deserve it, trust me, in any other situation we’d let you at him.”

“But _do not_ ,” Izzy spoke firmly and honestly, “choose that asshole over Duff.”

Slash felt his blood run cold, “I-I’m not-”

“Are you sure?” Tommy cut in, “Because one of them needs you right now, and it’s not the one you’re running towards.”

He wants to cry. Shaking hands run through his hair as Izzy finally releases his grip, resting his hand on his shoulder comfortingly, “Fuck,” his voice cracks. He hates this. He hates this so much. “Fuck, you’re right, I-... I gotta get back to him-”

“Better move quick, then,” Nikki strides up to them, fists clenched at his side, “Your boy just took off out the back exit.”

“Shit!” His fury takes the back burner as the anxiety of Duff being on his own right now overrides it.

“Go,” Nikki jerks his head in the other direction, “We’ll take care of things here,” he turns to Tommy with a predatory grin, “Won't we, T-Bone?”

“It would be our pleasure,” the drummer cracks his knuckles eagerly, and as Slash takes off towards the back door, he figures that if he can’t tear Duff’s ex apart with his own two hands, the Terror Twins are not a bad second option.

Sprinting as fast as he can, he bursts out the back of the venue, head snapping around to try to find Duff. Luckily, the bassist hasn’t gone far. Duff’s strides are long and fast, but he’s not running, so he’s still easily visible down the block.

“Duff!” Slash calls out, running after him. He shouts his name again as he gets closer, but the only response is the blonde’s shoulders hitching up before he takes a sharp turn and ducks into the first bar he sees. Following him into the dimly lit building, Slash finally catches up just as Duff is frantically waving down the bartender.

“Hi, vodka cranberry, please,” his voice is stuttery, and he gives a shaky smile in an attempt to be polite. He practically collapses onto a stool, and Slash is quick to sit next to him.

“Hey, babe,” he speaks quietly, trying to be soothing, “are you alright?”

The bartender brings him his drink, and Duff snatches it from his hand before he can set it on the bar. Downing the drink in barely a second, he sets the glass down and smiles at the bartender again, “One more, less cranberry please.”

Raising an eyebrow, the man goes to make the second drink as Duff finally turns to Slash, pale and eyes already glassy from all the alcohol he’d been drinking all night, “Yeah, I’m fine, why wouldn’t I be?”

When the next drink arrives, Duff drinks it slightly slower, giving the bartender a chance to escape. Slash eyes him with concern, “Um… well, tonight was-... I mean, honestly the last couple days have been, uh… intense?”

“No, no, it’s fine,” he polishes off his drink, staring down at the empty glass, “It’s fine. I probably had it coming anyway,” he laughed humorlessly before bringing a hand up to bite at his nails, “I should have stayed and talked to him. I mean, I owe him that much-”

“Bullshit!” Slash snaps out. He feels a swell of guilt when Duff flinches, so when he continues he lowers his voice, “You don’t owe that asshole a fucking thing.”

Duff hummed noncommittally, “I don’t know. Maybe…” He turned his head and flagged down the bartender again and ordered another drink.

“We’ll close the tab now, please,” Slash cut in while Duff was busy chugging, quickly pulling out a wad of bills to pay for the drinks.

“I’m fine,” Duff mumbled, hand trembling slightly as he set down the empty glass.

Slash hesitantly reached out to rub his back, “I think it’s time to go home, babe.” He has no idea how much Duff had to drink before he got home that night, or when he’s last eaten, but even just the drinks he’s _seen_ the bassist inhale were going to be enough to mess him up in no time at all.

His point was proven when Duff stood and immediately swayed dramatically, Slash rushing to wrap an arm around his waist to steady him, “Yeah, it’s definitely time to go home.” The second they got outside he managed to snag a cab- there was no way he was going to be able to support the six foot blonde the entire way home. He kept his arm around Duff, whispering soothing nonsense and trying to be comforting. 

“Y’know,” Duff slurred, blinking slowly as he gazed at Slash, “It wasn’t all… I learned a lot from Scott. Like, like how t’ be a better boyfriend, y’know?” He smiled shakily, too drunk to notice the way Slash’s face hardened at his words, “I haven’t been v’ry good for you though,” he leaned his head against the guitarist’s shoulder, “’ll try harder. Promise.”

“You’re fine, man,” Slash brought his hand up to stroke his hair softly, “You’re doing just fine.”

By the time they reached the Hell House, Duff’s most recent drinks had definitely hit him. Slash struggled to get him inside without dropping him as the bassist leaned most of his weight against him, weaving and swaying as they made their way towards their room. When he dropped Duff as gently as he could onto his mattress, he thought the man had passed out, his head turning back and forth slowly with his eyes closed and his limbs sprawled out. Slash was quick to tug off both of their boots and jackets, more than ready to settle down and just sleep after the tension of the last few days.

But when got into the bed himself, Duff’s eyes suddenly snapped open, wide and glassy, and with quick, jerky movements, he rolled over and threw a leg over Slash’s waist, straddling the guitarist. He was swaying back and forth, and despite his surprise at the sudden movement Slash managed to sit up and place his hands on his shoulders to steady him.

“Woah, hey, Duff,” he stuttered, “Easy there, why don’t you-”

Before he could finish his sentence, Duff pitched forward, landing a clumsy but firm kiss on his lips. Slash let out a muffled noise of surprise, Duff tangling shaking fingers into his hair and pulling him closer. All he could taste was vodka.

“Duff-” he tries to push him back gently, but he gets more firm when he feels a hand start to fumble with the button of his jeans, “Duff!” He shoves him back, holding him at arms length.

“I t’ld you I’d try harder,” the bassist mumbled, trying to lean in again but too uncoordinated to push through Slash’s hold.

There are so many alarm bells going off in his head that Slash can hardly think, but he manages to grind out, “Hey, we are _not_ doing this tonight.”

“Why?” Duff slurred, tilting his head, “You’ve been so patient, you don’t have to… you want me, right?”

“Of course I do,” Slash sighed in frustration, “but I’m not going to fuck you when you’re two sips away from blacking out!”

Duff’s whole body freezes under his hands, blinking slowly and something like shock filtering across his face. There is a long moment of silence, the two of them just looking at each other. Slash doesn’t know what response he’s expecting. But he knows it’s not for Duff to swallow thickly, drop his gaze, and whisper shakily.

“But I’m too scared when I’m sober.”

Slash swears he feels his heart stop. He thinks of Duff’s hesitance whenever their makeout sessions got a little too heavy. He thinks about how he had told Steven that Duff was always wasted by the time he got them alone, and he suddenly realizes that that was no accident. It was intentional. Taking a deep breath, he just wants this to stop getting worse. He wonders suddenly if this is what Axl feels like when he destroys entire rooms, because right now he wants to put his fists through the wall. Or maybe cry.

Or maybe both.

The silence stretches on for just a moment too long, and so Duff looks back up, giving a weak smile that doesn’t reach his eyes as he puts his hands on Slash’s chest, sliding them down towards his stomach. “It’s okay,” he whispers, “It’s fine. It’s better this way, r'lly. You can… I w'n’t…" his eyes flutter closed for a moment. When he opens them, he stares blankly somewhere over Saul's shoulder as he breathes out, "It’s okay.”

As gently as he can, soft and slow, Slash covers Duff’s hands with his own, pulling them away from his body. When he speaks, his voice is quiet, and sad, “Telling me that you can only handle sex when you’re wasted is _not_ okay.” He hates the look of surprise on Duff’s face. The disbelief, the confusion, the pain. He runs his thumbs over the back of the bassist’s hands, trying to soothe him, “It’s okay if you’re not ready. This isn’t something you have to give me.”

Duff let out a watery huff, something between a laugh and a sob, “I don’t have 'nything else t' give.”

Slash clenches his teeth so hard it feels like they might crack. Why does it keep getting worse? He has to take a few deep breaths to swallow back the rage that crawls up his throat. Not at Duff, never at Duff, but at the person who made him think this way. The person he could hear Duff quoting back at him now. His chest is full of anger and heartbreak when Duff sucks in a breath as he rests his hand against his cheek. Tilting his head, the guitarist looked up at him, a searching look in his eyes as he speaks softly.

“And who told you that?”

Something like surprise crosses Duff's face, a slow realization, and he opens and closes his mouth a few times before finally managing to choke out a soft, "Oh," just as the first tear rolls down his cheek.

Pulling him forward gently, Slash gathered the bassist in his arms, stroking his back soothingly. Duff curled into the embrace, folding himself practically in half in an attempt to hide his face in the guitarist's chest.

It’s a few minutes before the silence is broken. Duff’s voice cracks when he speaks, his voice is so small that Slash nearly misses it, "I'm so _tired_ , Saul."

Swallowing thickly, he nodded, "I know. I know you are, sweetheart." Shifting carefully, he rearranged the two of them, keeping Duff in his arms even if it made it a little more awkward. Soon enough, he managed to get them both laying down on their sides, allowing the taller man to stretch out while still hiding in Slash's body.

"You can rest now," Slash whispered, holding on a little tighter as Duff began to shake, "It's okay. I've got you. Just rest. Just rest now."

It doesn’t take long for the alcohol to finally pull the bassist under, his body going limp under Slash’s hands. He feels tired too, and his heart is heavy, and it feels like he’s aged two years in two days. He knows that Duff will need much more rest than this one night can give him. 

Slash doesn’t rest at all.


	12. Chapter 12

_The alley was dark._

_A narrow pocket of shadow amongst the bright neons of the Sunset Strip, ignored by the masses which were drawn towards the lights like moths. Muffled music drifted from within brick walls, and the air was hazy with smoke which seemed to curl and part when the door opened, allowing a tall figure to slip into the darkness to hide._

_Duff couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief as he ducked out of the club and into the side alley, the pulsing music and overlapping voices softening as the door closed behind him. His PCS was almost completely gone, but he still found himself prone to headaches if he lingered too long around all the flashing lights. Setting his bag and his bass down on a relatively clean looking patch of asphalt, he took out his cigarettes and lit one up as he debated his options._

_He had made a decent amount of money from work and gigs this week, so he could probably afford a motel for a night or two. Was that the best use of his money though? If he kept couch surfing like he’d been doing he might be able to save more until he had enough for a deposit on an apartment. That was the better option as far as long term goals. Still, he sighed to himself as he exhaled a long stream of smoke, the idea of not being a burden on someone for a few nights was very appealing at the moment. He was so sick of being in the way._

_Before he could come to a decision, the club door burst open, the bassist jumping at the loud ‘BANG’ as it hit the wall, his heart rate skyrocketing at the sudden noise._

_“There you are!!”_

_Standing in the doorway was a scrawny young man with wild blonde hair, grinning widely. Duff found himself looking side to side, trying to find whoever the boy could be talking to, but it was just the two of them in the alley and the other blonde practically skipped over to him. For a moment, Duff was mortified- did he know this person? Oh God, he had no idea who this was, had they met and Duff had forgotten? Had Duff been drunk? Should he just act cool and pretend he remembered him or-_

_“Hi, I’m Steven!” The cheery blonde offered his hand, clearing up part of Duff’s concerns but not alleviating any of his confusion about the situation._

_“Oh, um…” he shook his hand hesitantly, “hi?”_

_“You’re the bass player from the last band, right?” Steven pointed a thumb back towards the club, still smiling, and Duff is head and shoulders above him but he still finds himself wary._

_“Uh, yeah. I’m Duff,” he introduces himself belatedly, “I’m not their usual bass player, I was just, y’know, filling in for the night.”_

_“I figured, I’ve seen you play with a few different groups. Listen, I’m in a band- I’m the drummer!- and we don’t have a bass player right now.”_

_“Oh!” Understanding dawns on him, “You want me to fill in for you guys?”_

_“No, I want you to join us!”_

_That has Duff blinking in surprise, “What, like, as a regular member?”_

_“Yeah!” Steven gestures excitedly, “I mean, the other guys will have to approve too- our singer can be a real hardass- but I think you rock!” The drummer must notice his hesitance, because he quickly rambles out, “Will you at least come jam with us? You don’t have to commit to anything right away. If nothing else I think it’d be a good time!”_

_Duff hums in consideration. He did miss being a regular member of a band. The days with 10 Minute Warning felt so far away now, and jumping between bands was getting tiring. And like the other man said, it wasn’t like he was signing a contract or anything. It was just a jam._

_“...Yeah, okay,” he finally answered, “Why not?”_

_Steven cheered, “Awesome! It’ll be great, you’ll see!” He rattled off an address where his band had been rehearsing occasionally, and they agreed on a time to meet in a few days._

_As the drummer turned to leave, Duff had a thought and called out to him, “Oh, hey, Steven?”_

_“Yeah?”_

_“What’s your band called?”_

_Turning around, Steven grinned widely._

_“Guns N’ Roses!”_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s just starting to get light outside when Slash carefully extracts himself from Duff’s grip, moving slowly and gently, practically holding his breath in an attempt not to wake the tall blonde. Luckily, he doesn’t stir, and Slash is able to slip out of the room. It’s not that he wants to leave Duff- if anything, he feels a stab of guilt for leaving the embrace- but he really had to piss. Also, he was starting to worry that his growling stomach would end up waking the bassist before his movements would, and Duff seemed like he really needed the rest.

Once he finished with the restroom, he wandered into the kitchen. On the way, he noticed a figure sprawled on the couch in the living room. Pausing, he raised a hand in a quiet greeting as Izzy gave him a curt nod. Continuing to the kitchen, he reached into the fridge and grabbed a slice of leftover pizza, not bothering to heat it up or grab a plate. Taking a bite, he glanced back towards the living room. After a moment of mental debate, he left the kitchen.

Izzy was stretched out on the beat up couch, and Slash dropped down across from him, leaning against the opposite arm and casually letting his legs stretch on top of the other guitarist’s. Tilting his head, Izzy gestured at the coffee table where his rig was laying.

“Want some?”

It was a testament to how shitty the past few days had been, because Izzy _never_ shared his stash. 

Shrugging, Slash didn’t even try to resist, “Sure. Thanks.” 

After a few minutes, once he had finished his pizza and felt the calm of the dope spreading through him, he felt ready to ask, “So. What’d I miss last night?”

“Not much to be honest,” Izzy replied, “I watched Nikki and Tommy get a few hits in, then they dragged him outside and I had to go stop Axl from destroying the dressing room. They seemed pretty damn pleased with themselves when they got back though, so if I had to guess I’d say the bastard is probably just a smear on the sidewalk outside the Whiskey now.”

Slash snorted, “Good.”

"Agreed," Izzy nodded casually. 

There was another long silence, Slash opening and closing his mouth several times before finally voicing the question that had been biting him for hours.

“...How long have you known?”

Izzy sighed, leaning his head back against the arm rest to look at the ceiling. “A while,” he admitted flatly. Before Slash could ruminate too much on his answer, he tilted his head to look him in the eye, “Not because he, like, confided in me or anything. Duff didn’t tell _any_ of us, it’s not like he _only_ hid it from you or something.”

“Oh…” Slash feels a little ashamed at the relief he feels at that, but Izzy only shrugs.

“Axl just figured it out. Then he told me because he needed someone to talk to about it. I’m assuming something similar happened with Nikki and Tommy.”

Slash couldn’t help but snort, “God, what a fucked up club I’m apparently a part of. We should make t-shirts.”

“Don’t even fucking joke about that,” Izzy pointed his cigarrette at him accusingly, “If Tommy hears you say that shit he’ll _actually_ make t-shirts. Then Axl will kill him, Nikki will kill Axl, I’ll have to kill Nikki, our bands will go to war like some fucked up Montague and Capulet shit with fucking Vince and Steven in the middle of it and all of that blood will be on _your_ hands, you fucker!”

It felt odd to be laughing in the midst of all that had happened, but Slash couldn’t help it, “Oh come on, if you’re gonna use that metaphor at least make us The Jets and The Sharks!” he giggled. Maybe it was the heroin. Maybe he just really needed to laugh. 

Too soon though, his chuckles died off, and he found his mind wandering back to darker thoughts, “Y’know,” he spoke slowly, “part of me can’t help but wish that I’d met Duff…” he waved his hand vaguely, “ _before_ ,” he sighed. “I love him now. I really do. But I just… I wonder what he was like. I wonder what things would have been like if I had gotten to him first, y’know?” Izzy nodded knowingly, and Slash turned to him, asking casually, “Do you ever feel that way about Axl?”

Izzy takes a long, deep drag of his cigarette and holds it, keeping it in his lungs for so long it has to burn, before exhaling, “Axl doesn’t have a ‘before’.”

Slash closes his eyes as he mutters, “Jesus Christ...”

Across from him, Izzy shrugs, “Yeah.” He taps on Slash’s leg with his foot to get his attention, “It’s okay to wish he hadn’t been hurt, man. It doesn’t mean you love him less or anything.”

“I know, I know,” he sighed, “it just…”

“Sucks?” Izzy offered with a quirk of an eyebrow.

Slash huffed out a laugh, “Yeah,” he nodded, “It sucks.”

~~~~~~~~

_“Hey, Slash! I have a question,” Tommy skipped over to the guitarist, “You have a pet snake, right?”_

_“Um,” Slash blinked in surprise at the unexpected question, “I have a couple, yeah, but they’re back at my mom and grandma’s place.”_

_“Cool, cool,” Tommy nodded, throwing an arm around his shoulders, “I’m trying to convince the guys that we should get a pet-”_

__

__

_Duff titled his head curiously, but before he could find out the rest of Tommy’s inquiry, a hand fell on his shoulder, tugging him to a stop._

__

__

_Nikki grinned, “Hey, smoke with me for a sec. I haven’t gotten to spend time with my bass bro in ages.”_

__

__

_Nodding, Duff turned to let Slash- his boyfriend, holy shit- know what he was doing, but found himself blinking in surprise when he found the other man gone. A quick glance showed that Tommy was ushering him into the Motley Crue apartment._

__

__

_“Come on, I promise Tommy wont get him into too much trouble,” Nikki joked, getting his attention again._

__

__

_Duff chuckled, “I dunno man, the two of them together? I don’t think either of them are exactly known for resisting chaos.”_

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_“Fair point,” Nikki laughed, passing him his lighter until they were both smoking casually. “So,” the dark haired bassist drawled with a smirk, “you and Slash finally stopped dancing around each other, huh?”_

__

__

_Snorting, Duff shrugged, “Apparently. It’s still pretty surreal to be honest.” He was still a little embarrassed at how quickly the terror twins had honed in on his crush when they first met, but their teasing had always seemed good natured at least._

__

__

_Nikki patted his shoulder, “Slash is a good dude, he’ll treat ya right.”_

__

__

_Maybe it was the nerves, or exhaustion from the show, or exhaustion from the last 22 years, but Duff found himself replying softly, “Yeah...hopefully.”_

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_Turning to look at him, Nikki didn’t look remotely surprised by Duff’s comment, but he still raised an eyebrow questioningly, “You think he won't?”_

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_“I- No, not, not like that,” he waved a hand as he backtracked, “That came out wrong.”_

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_“What did you mean then?”_

__

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_“Nothing.”_

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_“Come on,” Nikki crossed his arms, and Duff felt like his eyes were staring right through him, “You think he’s a good guy, right? That’s why you like him.”_

__

__

_“Yeah, no, yeah of course,” his hands gestured wildly as he tried to explain himself, “He’s great, it’s just, y’know, even great guys can only put up with so much shit y’know?” He grinned nervously, “I just meant that I hope I don't fuck up. That’s all.”_

__

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_Nikki narrowed his eyes, but before he could respond, the guitarist in question was jogging over to them._

__

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_“Hey guys,” Slash smiled tensely, “I was wondering where you ran off to,” he said to Duff, weaving their fingers together._

__

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_“Oh, yeah, sorry,” Duff gave a nervous laugh. “just got caught up in conversation.”_

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_“Bassist bonding, y’know?” Nikki grinned, taking a long drag of his cigarette and looking at Slash calculatingly._

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_“Yeah, I’m still trying to convince Mick to join me and Izzy for ‘guitarist get-togethers,” he replied._

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_“Oh, I definitely need to see that,” Nikki laughed, seeming to relax if just slightly._

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_Leaning heavier against Duff, Slash turned to him, “I’m pretty beat from the show. I was thinking maybe we could get out of here…?” he suggested with a sly smile._

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_Duff knew exactly what that meant, and he felt his stomach twist into knots even as he nodded, “Oh, yeah, sure, I-”_

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_“Aw, don’t leave so soon!” Nikki interrupted, giving them exaggerated puppy eyes, “You only just got here,” sauntering around them, put his arms around them both, ducking his head between them, “At least stay for a few drinks.”_

__

_As he guided them into the apartment, Duff quietly sighed in relief. He was prepared to do anything Slash asked of him._

__

__

_But it’d be easier if he had a few drinks in him first._

~~~~~~~~~~~

When Slash returns to his room about an hour later, he is carrying two mugs of coffee and Duff is laying on his stomach with a pillow covering his head.

“...Duff?” Slash whispers, just to be safe, “Are you awake?”

He receives a long groan in response, and he can’t help just let out a snort of laughter.

“I can’t decide if I want to never drink again or never be sober again,” Duff’s muffled voice eventually replies.

Slash shook his head fondly as he chuckled, “Well, I brought you coffee?”

Duff’s movements were tense and hesitant, turning and pulling the pillow away just enough to glance at Slash with one weary, sad eye. After a moment he reluctantly sat up, smiling weakly when Slash handed him his mug, giving a quiet “Thanks” before sipping the drink quietly and staring at his lap.

Sitting on the bed next to him, Slash allowed both of them a minute to just drink their coffee quietly. Duff raised one hand to press his fingers into the side of his head, cringing at what Slash was sure was an impressive hangover.

Keeping his voice soft, Slash jerked his head at the blonde, “How are you feeling?”

Scoffing, Duff ran his hand through his hair, “Fucking _mortified_ ,” he replied, voice dripping with self-loathing.

Slash blinked in surprise. He had meant to ask about how Duff was physically feeling, and had expected the bassist to jump at the opportunity to put off an emotional conversation. He wasn’t sure if the unexpected development was a good sign or a bad one.

“Why?”

Duff’s head snapped to look at him, face incredulous, “What do you mean _why_?” One hand flailed helplessly as he rambled, “My ex showed up and I was a coward and ran off with my tail between my legs, got completely plastered, and then tried to drunkenly jump you like some sort of fucking groupie or something!” He dropped his head roughly onto his knees, his words muffled but no less vitriolic, “And then I fucking _cried_! Just when I thought I couldn’t get any _more_ pathetic…”

“Hey,” Slash doesn’t raise his voice, but he’s still firm as he tugs lightly on a strand of bleached hair, “stop that. That’s my boyfriend you’re talking about.”

Turning his head hesitantly, Duff’s face was a cross between confusion and hope, “We’re still boyfriends?”

“Wha- of course we are!” Slash cried in dismay.

“...Oh,” Duff sighed, smiling slightly before hiding his face in his knees again as he let out a huff of relieved laughter, “Fuck, man. I figured you were just, y’know, trying to let me down easy,” he waved a hand vaguely, the other still clutching his empty coffee mug.

Slash hesitates for a moment, but then he can’t resist slowly putting an arm around Duff’s shoulders, tugging him closer to lean against his side, “Duff,” he says softly, “all the shit that’s happened this week, and the things you told me… none of that makes me think less of you. None of that makes me... _like_ you less.”

There’s no response at first, and he wonders if Duff believes him. After a minute of just sitting together, Duff finally turns to look at him. He holds his breath, waiting to see how the conversation will move forward. Then the bassist gives a slow, wry grin.

“I need a drink.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

_He should probably slow down. He hadn’t eaten since before the show and the bassist was downing vodka like water. That was probably why he barely noticed when Axl linked arms with him and tugged him out of the kitchen._

_“Seriously, it’s about time,” the redhead rambled, “Slash has been insufferable ever since you joined Guns. He practically had little cartoon hearts around his head every time you walked into a room.”_

__

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_Duff chuckled, absentmindedly reaching out to snag another bottle of vodka he saw sitting on the coffee table. “I was convinced I didn’t have a chance with him,” he admitted._

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_Axl snorted as he scared off some groupies so they could sit on the worn down couch in the corner, “Please. I’m not kidding, day fucking one you could have said jump and he would've said how high.”_

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_“Nah, that’s me,” he grinned, taking another shot from his bottle._

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_Taking a long sip from his own cup, Axl hummed in consideration, before grinning in excitement, “Oh man, I just realized I totally get to give Slash the shovel talk. I’ve always wanted to do that.”_

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_Frowning, Duff looked at him in confusion, “What?”_

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_“The shovel talk,” Axl repeated, “You know, the ‘you hurt him, I’ll hurt you’ lecture that dads give to dudes who date their daughters. Or so I’ve been told,” he shrugged._

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_“No I, I know that,” Duff shook his head, “I mean why would you do that with Slash?”_

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_“Because Izzy kept saying I was the band mom, I called bullshit, and after like a week of arguing we eventually compromised on me being the dad.”_

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_Duff nearly growled in frustration, “No, that’s not-” he shook his head, trying to pull his thoughts together, “The whole lecture thing is- I mean, if Slash did do something it’d be because **I** fucked up, y’know? You can’t threaten him or whatever for something like that.”_

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_For a moment, Duff thought he could see actual flames in Axl’s eyes as the singer nearly slammed his cup down onto the coffee table, “Oh yes I **fucking** can.”_

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_Eyes widening, Duff could only stare as Axl leaned forward and launched into a frantic rant, “I don’t give a fuck what you do, or think you do, or whatever. If he or anyone else ever lifts a goddamn finger towards you, you fucking tell me. Hell, if someone steps on your goddamn foot I wanna hear about it, do you understand? **Tell. Me**. Fuck, tell Izzy, or Steven, or fucking Nikki, anyone, I don’t fucking care, but you don’t keep that shit to yourself anymore, got it?”_

__

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_Axl stared at him intently, and Duff could only gape in confusion, not sure how to respond to his snarling words. But before he had a chance, he felt a kiss on the top of his head, jumping as Slash rested his chin on his hair._

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_“Hey babe,” he sang, “I missed you!”_

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_In front of him, Axl huffed, narrowing his eyes, “Um, rude? We were clearly talking.”_

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_Slash glared right back, draping his arms over Duff’s shoulders, “Hey, he’s my boyfriend, so I get to call dibs.”_

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_Even as he took another sip of Vodka, Duff couldn’t help but smile. Even after everything, he was still a hopeless romantic. Surely it was all worth it for the way his heart fluttered at that one simple gesture._

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_Right?_

~~~~~~~~~

“Why are you with me?”

Slash can’t help but ask. They’re both on their second beers, silently agreeing to forgo the hard alcohol this morning. They also snagged the rest of the leftover pizza, the nearly empty box sitting open on the bed in front of them as they ate casually.

“I just mean,” Slash elaborated, “it doesn’t seem like you’re exactly… comfortable. With the whole dating thing. So why didn’t you just shoot me down?”

Duff shrugged, shooting him a smirk, “Because I liked you,” he says simply. He takes another sip of his beer as he considers his next words, “I couldn’t help it. You’re cool, and sweet, and talented. And despite, y’know, everything,” he waved a hand vaguely, “the fact that you are unfairly hot did not escape me either,” he grinned, chuckling when Slash shoved his shoulder playfully. “And then against all odds you actually liked me back, and I just...” 

He looks down at his hands, peeling the label off his bottle as he admits quietly, “You kissed me and all my self-preservation went out the fucking window.”

Frowning, Slash put his drink down, leaning forward to try to catch Duff’s eye, “You know I’d never do anything to you… right? I mean, I don’t even like getting into fights with people I hate. I can’t even imagine…” he trails off, shuddering at the very idea of hurting Duff. He’s never hit any of his partners, and he’s not about to start now.

Duff hums in consideration, tilting his head and replying slowly, “...I know you’d never hurt someone who didn’t deserve it.” Slash feels his chest tighten, but before he can even begin to think of how to respond, Duff smiles slowly, quirking an eyebrow at him as he lifts his bottle to take another drink.

“All’s fair in love and war. Right?”

~~~~~~~~~

_The vodka is really starting to hit by the time Izzy pulls him to his feet so Tommy can take his spot on the couch. Does that stop him from tipping the bottle back to get those last few drops?_

_Of course not._

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_He lets Izzy tug him to the other side of the room, Nikki already standing and smoking lazily. Duff nods at him in greeting as he leans heavily against the wall, blinking slowly as the room tilts around him. He’s almost drunk enough, he thinks. Almost._

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_“Duff.”_

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_Shaking his head to try to focus, he turns to give Izzy his attention. The rhythm guitarist is frowning just slightly, “Duff,” he says again, voice soft, “I’m gonna level with you here. We’re worried about you.”_

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_That has him furrowing his brows, “‘m fine, just…” he waves the empty bottle in his hand, “a little buzzed. That’s all."_

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_“Oh we are definitely not talking about that,” Nikki chimed in._

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_“I meant we’re worried about you and Slash,” Izzy continued. Duff opened his mouth, but Izzy cut him off, “I know Slash. He’s a really good guy- I don’t think he’d ever do anything to hurt you on purpose.”_

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_“What we’re worried about,” Nikki drawls, “is that he’ll do something by accident and you won't tell him.”_

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_“But…” For a moment, Duff just stares, feeling the floor rock back and forth like a ship on the sea. Then he shakes his head slowly, his eyes drifting shut as he smiles softly._

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_“That’s what love **is** ,” he explains, “It’s… it’s the people who are **allowed** to hurt you.”_

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_When he opens his eyes, Izzy is looking at him with a sad, tired expression._

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_“No,” he says, “it’s not.”_

~~~~~~~

“...Do you… still want to give this a shot?”

Duff’s head jerks up to look at him. The room is hazy from smoke, alternating between cigarettes and joints once they finished their beers, the empty pizza box shoved unceremoniously onto the floor.

Slash continues, “I really, really like you, man. But… I’d get it. If you’d rather, y’know, take a step back. You can, if you want, I won’t be mad or anything.”

Taking a deep drag of his cigarette, Duff thinks for a moment, exhaling slowly and tapping his fingers against his knee. When he finally answers, he smiles at Slash shyly, “Is it fucked up that I don’t?” He dropped the end of his cigarette into one of the empty beer bottles next to the bed, “I like you, yeah, but I also like… being with you. Even with the, y’know, stress and whatever, the last few weeks have been really… nice,” he explains slowly before glancing up at Slash out of the corner of his eye, “All this shit has kind of been my attempt at not losing this.”

Despite himself, Slash huffs out a laugh, twirling his lighter in his hand, “Is it fucked up that I’m kind of relieved?” He grins at him, “I don’t want to lose this either.”

Duff shrugged, “Eh. Maybe we’re both fucked up.”

This time, Slash laughs fully, “Yeah,” he reaches out to lace their fingers together, “Yeah, maybe we are.”

~~~~~~

_The walk home was gentle. It was their arms around each other’s waists, supporting each other as they swayed, Slash peppering kisses along his shoulder and neck. The vodka keeps him loose and relaxed, and Slash keeps him smiling._

_Back home, falling back onto the bed, Duff’s eyes drift shut. Even in the dark behind his eyelids everything still spins, but it’s a slow spin, more hypnotic than dizzying. It slows even more when he feels a weight rest gently on top of him, a soft sigh against his chest._

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_“Mmmm… Slash?” Duff muttered, turning his head to try to look at the guitarist, a mass of blurry curls blocking his view, “I-... ‘re you…”_

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_Slash hushed him, wrapping his arms around his waist and rolling them onto their sides, tucking his head beneath Duff’s chin, “Long day,” he slurred with a smile, “Let’s just sleep now. I’ll take you on a date tomorrow,” he promised._

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_Duff can’t remember the last time he was on a date. He feels like he’s dreaming, laying in bed with Slash for the second time in as many days, his arms around him and nothing hurting._

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_“...Oh,” Duff let out a breath that he feels like he’s been holding since the day they met, “Okay,” he laughed a little, bringing a hand up to smooth back Slash’s wild curls, and he feels a kiss pressed against his shoulder, and warmth that he can’t name spreads across his body._

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_The guitarist’s breath evens out, falling asleep easily. Duff feels himself drifting as well, but he fights it off as long as he can, wanting to savor this unfamiliar feeling, trying to taste its name before it disappears._

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_Just as he succumbs to sleep, his tongue finally finds the name._

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_Safe._


End file.
